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THE SOLDIER BOY 

OR 


TOM SOMERS IN THE ARMY 

31 J>totp of tlje <S5teat ffieMIion 


BY 

OLIVER OPTIC 

AUTHOR OF “ RICH AND HUMBLE,” “ ALL ABOARD,” 
“ LITTLE BY LITTLE,” ETC., ETC. 


NEW YORK 

HURST & COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 



Library of Congress 



2011 514511 
































TO 


Militant %ee f lEsq, 

THIS BOOK 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
BY HIS FRIEND 


WILLIAM T. ADAMS. 







PREFACE. 


This volume is not altogether a military ro¬ 
mance, though it contains the adventures of one of 
those noble-hearted and patriotic young men who 
went forth from homes of plenty and happiness 
to fight the battles of our imperilled country. 
The incidents of the story may be stirring and ex¬ 
citing; yet they are not only within the bounds of 
probability, but have been more than paralleled 
in the experience of hundreds of the gallant sol¬ 
diers of the loyal army. 

The work is not intended to approach the dig¬ 
nity of a history, though the writer has carefully 
consulted the “ authorities,” both loyal and rebel, 
and has taken down the living words of enthusi¬ 
astic participants in the stirring scenes described 
in this volume. He has not attempted to give a 
full picture of any battle, or other army opera¬ 
tion, but simply of those movements in which 
the hero took a part. The book is a narrative of 
personal adventure, delineating the birth and 
growth of a pure patriotism in the soul of the 
hero, and describing the perils and privations, 
the battles and marches which he shared with 
thousands of brave men in the army of the Po¬ 
tomac.. 

The author has endeavored to paint a picture 
of the true soldier, one who loves his country, 

5 


6 


Preface. 


and fights for her because he loves her; but, at 
the same time, one who is true to himself and his 
God, while he is faithful to his patriotic impulses. 

The work has been a pleasure to me in its prep¬ 
aration, and I hope it will not disappoint the 
reasonable expectation of those partial friends 
whose smile is my joy, whose frown is my grief. 
But, more than all, I trust this humble volume 
will have some small influence in kindling and 
cherishing that genuine patriotism which must 
ever be the salvation of our land, the founda¬ 
tion of our national prosperity and happiness. 

WILLIAM T. ADAMS. 


Dorchester, Feb. 22, 1864. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

[. The Battle of Pinchbrook. 9 

II. The Somers Family. 17 

III. Taming a Traitor. 26 

' IV. The Committee come out, and Tom goes in.. 34 

V. The Attic Chamber. 41 

VI. The Way is Prepared. 49 

VII. A Midnight Adventure. 57 

VIII. Signing the Papers.. 64 

IX. The Departure. 72 

X. Company K.... . 82 

XI. In Washington. 89 

XII. “ On to Richmond”... 98 

XIII. The Battle of Bull Run. 106 

XIV. After the Battle. 114 

XV. Tom a Prisoner. 122 

XVI. A Perplexing Question. 131 

XVII. Dinner and Danger. 130 

XVIII. The Rebel Soldier.. .. 147 

XIX. Through the Gap . 155 

XX. Down the Shenandoah. 164 

XXI. The Problem of Rations. 172 

XXII. The Picket Guard. 181 


7 
























8 Contents. 

CHAPTER PA fE 

XXIII. The End of the Voyage. Id9 

XXIV. Budd's Ferry. 197 

XXV. In the Hospital. 205 

XXVI. Tom is Sentimental.214 

XXVII. The Confederate Deserter. 222 

XXVIII. On the Peninsula. 230 

XXIX. The Battle of Williamsburg.. 238 

XXX. More of the Battle .. .246 

XXXI. Glory and Victory. $53 

XXXII. “ Honorable Mention ”.$151 

XXXIII. Lieutenant Somers and Others.$69 













THE SOLDIER BOY; 

OR, 

TOM SOMERS IN THE ARMY. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE BATTLE OF PINCHBROOK. 

Fort Sumter has surrendered, mother! ” 
shouted Thomas Somers, as he rushed into the 
room where his mother was quietly reading her 
Bible. 

It was Sunday, and the exciting news had been 
circulated about the usually quiet village of 
Pinchbrook Harbor. Men’s lips were compressed, 
and their teeth shut tight together. They were 
indignant, for traitors had fired upon the flag 
of the United States. Men, women, and children 
were roused by the indignity offered to the na¬ 
tional emblem. The cannon balls that struck the 
walls of Sumter seemed at the same time to strike 
the souls of the whole population of the North, 
and never was there such a great awakening since 
the Pilgrim Fathers first planted their feet upon 
the rock of Plymouth. 


9 



io The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Fort Sumter has surrendered! ” shouted the 
indignant young patriot again, as his mother 
looked up from the blessed volume. 

“You donH say so!” exclaimed Mrs. Somers, 
as she closed the Bible, and removed her spec¬ 
tacles. 

“ Yes, mother. The infernal rebels hammered 
away at the fort for two days, and at last we had 
to give in.” 

“There’ll be terrible times afore long,” replied 
the old lady, shaking her head with prophetic 
earnestness. 

“ The President has called for seventy-five 
thousand volunteers, and I tell you there’ll be 
music before long!” continued the youth, so ex¬ 
cited that he paced the room with rapid strides. 

“What’s the matter, Thomas?” asked a feeble 
old gentleman, entering the room at this moment. 

“ Fort Sumter has surrendered, gran’ther,” 
repeated Thomas, at the top of his lungs, for the 
aged man was quite deaf; “ and the President has 
called for seventy-five thousand men to go down 
and fight the traitors.” 

“Sho!” exclaimed the old man, halting, and 
gazing with earnestness into the face of the boy. 

“ It’s a fact, gran’ther.” 

“ Well, I’m too old to go,” muttered gran’ther 
Greene; “but I wa’n’t older’n you are when I 
shouldered my firelock in 1812. I’m too old and 
stiff to go now.” 

“ How old were you, gran’ther, when you went 
to the war?” asked Thomas, with more modera¬ 
tion than he had exhibited before. 

“ Only sixteen, Thomas; but I was as tall as I 


Tom Somers in the Army. it 

am now,” replied the patriarch, dropping slowly 
and cautiously into the old-fashioned high-back 
chair, by the side of the cooking stove. 

“ Well, I’m sixteen, and I mean to go.” 

“ You, Thomas! You are crazy! You shan’t 
do any thing of the kind,” interposed Mrs. Som¬ 
ers. “ There’s men enough to go to the war, with¬ 
out such boys as you are.” 

“ You ain't quite stout enough to make a 
soldier, Thomas. You ain't so big as I was, when 
I went off to York state,” added gran’ther Greene. 

“ I should like to go any how,” said Thomas, as 
he seated himself in a corner of the room, and 
began to think thoughts big enough for a full- 
grown man. 

“Fort Sumter has surrendered,” shouted John 
Somers, rushing into the house as much excited 
as his brother had been. 

“ We’ve heard all about it, John,” replied his 
mother. 

“ The President has called for seventy-five 
thousand men, and in my opinion the rebels will 
get an awful licking before they are a fortnight 
older. I should like to go and help do it.” 

The exciting news was discussed among the 
members of the Somers family, as it was in thou¬ 
sands of other families, on that eventful Sunday. 
Thomas and John could think of nothing, speak 
of nothing, but Fort Sumter, and the terrible 
castigation which the rebels would receive from 
the insulted and outraged North. They were 
loyal even to enthusiasm; and when they retired 
to their chamber at night, they ventured to ex¬ 
press to each other their desire to join the great 


12 


The Soldier Boy, or 

army which was to avenge the insult offered to 
the flag of the Union. 

They were twin brothers, sixteen years of age; 
but they both thought they were old enough and 
strong enough to be soldiers. Their mother, how¬ 
ever, had promptly disapproved of such sugges¬ 
tions, and they had not deemed it prudent to dis¬ 
cuss the idea in her presence. 

On Monday, the excitement instead of subsid¬ 
ing, was fanned to a fever heat; Pinchbrook Har¬ 
bor was in a glow of patriotism. Men neglected 
their usual occupations, and talked of the affairs 
of the nation. Every person who could procure 
a flag hung it out at his window, or hoisted it in 
his yard, or on his house. The governor had 
called out a portion of the state militia, and al¬ 
ready the tramp of armed men was heard in the 
neighboring city of Boston. 

Thomas Somers was employed in a store in the 
village, and during the forenoon he mechanically 
performed the duties of his position; but he could 
think of nothing but the exciting topic of the 
day. His blood was boiling with indignation 
against those who had trailed our hallowed flag 
in the dust. He wanted to do something to re¬ 
deem the honor of his country—something to wipe 
out the traitors who had dared to conspire against 
her peace. On his way home to dinner, he met 
Fred Pemberton, who lived only a short distance 
from his own house. 

“What do you think now, Fred?” said 
Thomas. 

“What do I think? I think just as I always 
did—the North is wrong, and the South is right,” 
replied Fred. 


!3 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“Who fired upon Fort Sumter? That’s the 
question,” said Thomas, his eyes flashing with 
indignation. 

“ Why didn’t they give up the fort, then ? ” 

“ Give up the fort! Shall the United States 
cave in before the little State of South Carolina. 
Not by a two chalks!” 

“ I think the North has been teasing and vexing 
the South till the Southerns can’t stand it any 
longer. There’ll be war now.” 

“I hope there will! By gracious, I hope so!” 

“ I hope the South will beat! ” 

“ Do you ? Do you, Fred Pemberton ? ” de¬ 
manded Tom, so excited he could not stand still. 

“ Yes, I do. The South has the rights of it. If 
we had let their niggers alone, there wouldn’t 
have been any trouble.” 

“ You are as blind as a bat, Fred. Don’t you 
see this isn’t a quarrel between the North and 
the South, but between the government and the 
rebels? ” 

“ I don’t see it. If the North had let the South 
alone, there wouldn’t have been any fuss. I hope 
the North will get whipped, and I know she will.” 

“ Fred, you are a traitor to your country! ” 

“ No, I’m not! ” 

“Yes, you are; and if I had my way, I’d ride 
you on a rail out of town.” 

“ No, you wouldn’t.” 

“ Yes, I would. I always thought you were a 
decent fellow; but you are a dirty, low-lived 
traitor.” 

“ Better be careful what you say, Tom Som¬ 
ers ! ” retorted the young secessionist, angrily. 


i ^ The Soldier Boy, or 

H A fellow that won’t stand by his country 
ain’t fit to live. You are an out-and-out traitor.” 

“ Don’t call me that again, Tom Somers,” re¬ 
plied Fred, doubling up his fist. 

“ I say you are a traitor.” 

u Take that, then.” 

Tom did take it, and it was a pretty hard blow 
on the side of his head. Perhaps it was fortunate 
for our younsr patriot that an opportunity was 
thus afforded him to evaporate some of his en¬ 
thusiasm in the cause of his country, for there is 
no knowing what might have been the conse¬ 
quence if it had remained longer pent up in his 
soul. Of course, he struck back; and a contest, 
on a small scale, between the loyalty of the North 
and the treason of the South commenced. How 
long it might have continued, or what might have 
been the result, cannot now be considered; for the 
approach of a chaise interrupted the battle, and 
the forces of secession were reenforced by a full- 
grown man. 

The gentleman stepped out of his chaise with 
his whip in his hand, and proceeded to lay it 
about the legs and body of the representative of 
the Union side. This was more than Tom Somers 
could stand, and he retreated in good order from 
the spot, till he had placed himself out of the 
reach of the whip. 

“ What do you mean, you young scoundrel ? ” 
demanded the gentleman who had interfered. 

Tom looked at him, and discovered that it was 
Squire Pemberton, the father of his late opponent. 

“ He hit me first,” said Tom. 

“ He called me a traitor,” added Fred. “ I 


Tom Somers in the Army. 15 

won’t be called a traitor by him, or any other 
fellow.” 

“ What do you mean by calling my son a 
traitor, you villain?” 

“ I meant just what I said. He is a traitor. 
He said he hoped the South would beat.” 

“ Suppose he did. I hope so too,” added Squire 
Pemberton. 

The squire thought, evidently, that this ought 
to settle the question. If he hoped so, that was 
enough. 

“ Then you are a traitor, too. That’s all I’ve 
got to say,” replied Tom, boldly. 

“ You scoundrel! How dare you use such a 
word to me!” roared the squire, as he moved 
towards the blunt-spoken little patriot. 

For strategic reasons, Tom deemed it prudent 
to fall back; but as he did so, he picked up a 
couple of good-sized stones. 

“ I said you were a traitor, and I say so again,” 
said Tom. 

“ Two can play at that game,” added Fred, as 
he picked up a stone and threw it at Tom. 

The Union force returned the fire with the most 
determined energy, until one of the missiles 
struck the horse attached to the chaise. The ani¬ 
mal, evidently having no sympathy with either 
party in this miniature contest, and without con¬ 
sidering how much damage he might do the rebel 
cause, started off at a furious pace when the stone 
struck him. He dashed down the hill at a fearful 
rate, and bounded away over the plain that led 
to the Harbor. 

Squire Pemberton and his son had more in- 


16 The Soldier Boy, or 

terest in the fate of the runaway horse than they 
had in the issue of the contest, and both started 
at the top of their speed in pursuit. But they 
might as well have chased a flash of lightning, or 
a locomotive going at the rate of fifty miles 
an hour. 

Tom Somers came down from the bank which 
he had ascended to secure a good position. He 
had done rather more than he intended to do; but 
on the whole he did not much regret it. He 
watched the course of the spirited animal, as he 
dashed madly on to destruction. The career of 
the horse was short; for in the act of turning 
a corner, half a mile from the spot where Tom 
stood, he upset the chaise, and was himself 
thrown down, and, being entangled in the harness, 
was unable to rise before a stout man had him 
by the head. 

“ I wish that chaise had been the southern con¬ 
federacy,’’ said Tom to himself, philosophically, 
when he saw the catastrophe, in the distance. 
“Well, it served you right, old Secesh; and I’ll 
bet there ain’t many folks in Pinchbrook Harbor 
that will be willing to comfort the mourners.” 

With this consoling assurance, Tom continued 
on his way home. At dinner, he gave the family 
a faithful account of the transaction. 

“ You didn’t do right, Thomas,” said his 
mother. 

“ He hit me first.” 

“ You called him a traitor.” 

“ He is a traitor, and so is his father.” 

“ I declare, the boys are as full of fight as an 
egg is of meat,” added gran’ther Greene. 


17 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ You haven’t seen the last of it .yet, Thomas,” 
said the prudent mother. 

“ No matter, Tom; I’ll stand by you,” added 
John. 

After dinner, the two boys walked down to the 
Harbor together. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE SOMERS FAMILY. 

The town of Pinchbrook is not a great distance, 
from Boston, with which it is connected by rail¬ 
road. If any of our young readers are of a geo¬ 
graphical turn of mind, and are disposed to ascer¬ 
tain the exact locality of the place, we will save 
them any unnecessary trouble, for it is not laid 
down on any map with which we are familiar. 
We live in times of war, and probably our young 
friends have already learned the meaning of 
“ military necessity.” Our story is essentially a 
military story, and there are certain military 
secrets connected with it which might be traced 
out if we should inform our inquisitive readers 
exactly where Pinchbrook is situated. 

Squire Pemberton, we doubt not, is very anxi¬ 
ous to find out certain persons connected with 
some irregular proceedings in and around his 
house on the evening of Monday, April 16th. 
Fidelity to the truth of history compels us to nar¬ 
rate these proceedings in our humble volume; but 
we should exceedingly regret thereby to get any 
of our friends into a scrape by informing the 



18 The Soldier Boy, or 

squire that they were active participants in the 
scenes of that eventful night, or to say any thing 
which would enable him, a lawyer, to trace out 
the authors of the mischief through these pages. 
Therefore we cannot say where Pinchbrook is, or 
even give a hint which would enable our readers 
to fix definitely its locality. 

Pinchbrook is a town of about three thousand 
inhabitants, engaged, as the school books would 
say, in agriculture, manufactures, commerce, and 
the fisheries, which, rendered into still plainer 
English, means that some of the people are farm¬ 
ers; that wooden pails, mackerel kegs, boots and 
shoes, are made; that the inhabitants buy gro¬ 
ceries, and sell fish, kegs, pails, and similar wares; 
and that there are about .twenty vessels owned in 
the place, the principal part of which are fisher¬ 
men. 

We have not the agricultural and commercial 
statistics of the place at hand; but the larger 
territorial part of the town was devoted to the 
farming interest, and was rather sparsely popu¬ 
lated, while the principal village, called Pinch¬ 
brook Harbor, was more densely peopled, con¬ 
tained two stores, four churches, one wharf, a 
blacksmith shop, and several shoe and bucket 
manufactories. 

We are willing to acknowledge that Pinchbrook 
is rather a singular name. The antiquarians have 
not yet had an opportunity to determine its 
origin; but our private opinion is that the word 
is a corruption of Punch-brook. Perhaps, at some 
remote period in the history of the town, before 
the Sons of Temperance obtained a foothold in 


i9 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

the place, a villainous mixture, known to topers 
under the general appellation of “ punch/’ may 
have been largely consumed by the Pinchbrook- 
ers. Though not a very aged person ourself, we 
have heard allusions to festive occasions where, 
metaphorically, the punch was said to “ flow 
in streams.” Possibly, from “ streams ” came 
u brooks,”—hence, “ Punclibrook,”—which, under 
the strange mutations of time, has become 
“ Pinchbrook.” But we are not learned in these 
matters, and we hope that nothing we have said 
will bias the minds of antiquarians, and prevent 
them from devoting that attention to the origin 
of the word which its importance demands. 

The Somers family, which we have already 
partially introduced, occupied a small cottage 
not quite a mile from Pinchbrook Harbor. Cap¬ 
tain Somers, the head of the family, had been, 
and was still, for aught his wife and children 
knew, master of the schooner Gazelle. To pur¬ 
chase this vessel, he had heavily mortgaged his 
house and lands in Pinchbrook to Squire Pember¬ 
ton. But his voyages had not been uniformly 
successful, though the captain believed that his 
earthly possessions, after discharging all his 
liabilities, would amount to about five thousand 
dollars. 

The mortgage note would become due in June, 
and Captain Somers had been making a strong 
effort to realize upon his property, so as to enable 
him to pay off the obligation at maturity. Cap¬ 
tain Somers had a brother who was familiarly 
known in the family as uncle Wyman. He had 
spent his life, from the age of eighteen, in the 


20 


The Soldier Boy, or 

South, and at the time of which we write, he was 
a merchant in Norfolk. 

Captain Somers and his brother had been in¬ 
terested together in certain mercantile transac¬ 
tions, and uncle Wyman being the business man, 
had the proceeds of these ventures in his own 
hands. 

On the 10th of April, only two days before the 
bombardment of Fort Sumter, Captain Somers 
had sailed in the Gazelle, with an assorted cargo, 
for Norfolk. Before leaving home he had assured 
his wife that he should not return without effect¬ 
ing a settlement with Wyman, who had postponed 
it so many times, that the honest sailor began to 
fear his brother did not mean to deal justly with 
him. Nothing had been heard of the Gazelle since 
her departure from Boston. 

Uncle Wyman was known to be a northern 
man with southern principles, while his brother, 
though not in the habit of saying much about 
politics, was fully committed on the side of the 
government, and was willing to sustain the Presi¬ 
dent in the use of all the coercion that might be 
necessary to enforce obedience to the laws. The 
threatening aspect of affairs at the South had 
made Captain Somers more than ever anxious to 
have his accounts adjusted, as all his earthly pos¬ 
sessions, except the schooner, w r ere in the hands 
of his brother; and the fact that uncle Wyman 
was so strong an advocate of Southern rights, 
had caused him to make the declaration that he 
would not return without a settlement. 

The financial affairs of the Somers family, 
therefore, were not in a very prosperous condition, 


Tom Somers in the Army. 2* 

and the solvency of the house depended entirely 
upon the adjustment with uncle Wyman. The 
mortgage note which Squire Pemberton held 
would be due in June, and as the creditor was 
not an indulgent man, there was a prospect that 
even the little cottage and the little farm might 
be wrested from them. 

The family at home consisted of Mrs. Somers 
and three children. The two oldest daughters 
were married to two honest, hard-working fisher¬ 
men at the Harbor. Thomas and John were twins, 
sixteen years of age. The former had a place in 
one of the stores at the village, and the latter oc¬ 
casionally went a fishing trip with his brothers-in- 
law. Both of the boys had been brought up to 
work, and there was need enough now that they 
should contribute what they could to the support 
of the family. The youngest child, Jane, was but 
eleven years of age, and went to school. Mrs. 
Somers’s brother, a feeble old man, a soldier in 
the war of 1812, and a pensioner of the govern¬ 
ment, had been a member of the family for twenty 
years; and was familiarly known in town as 
“ Gran’ther Green.” 

Having thus made our readers acquainted with 
Pinchbrook and the Somers ^family, we are pre¬ 
pared to continue our story. 

Thomas and John walked down to the Harbor 
together after dinner. The latter had listened 
with interest and approbation to his brother’s ac¬ 
count of the “ Battle of Pinchbrook,” as he 
facetiously called it; and perhaps he thought 
Thomas might need his assistance before he 
reached the store, for Fred and his father would 


22 


The Soldier Boy, or 

not probably be willing to let the matter rest 
where they had left it. 

We are sorry not tj be able to approve all the 
acts of the hero of this volume; but John, without 
asking our opinion, fully indorsed the action ot 
his brother. 

“ Fred is a traitor, and so is his father,” said he, 
as they passed out at the front gate of the little 
cottage. 

“That’s so, Jack; and it made my blood boil 
to hear them talk,” replied Thomas. “ And I 
couldn’t help calling things by their right names.” 

Bully for you, Tom ! ” added John, as he turned 
round, and glanced at the house to assure himself 
they were out of the hearing of their mother. 

‘ Between you and me, Tom, there will be music 
in Pinchbrook to-night.” 

He lowered his voice, and spoke in tones big 
with mystery and heavy with importance. 

“What do you mean?” asked Thomas, his in¬ 
terest excited by the v ords and manner of his 
brother. 

“ There is fun ahead.” 

“Tell me what it’s all about.” 

“You won’t say a word—will you?” 

“ Of course I won’t.” 

“ Not to mother, I mean, most of all.” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“ Squire Pemberton has been talking too loud 
for his own good.” 

“ I know that; he was in the store this fore¬ 
noon, and Jeff Davis himself is no bigger traitor 
than he is.” 

“ Some of the people are going to make him 
a call to-night.” 


2 3 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ What for? ” 

“ What do you suppose? Can’t you see through 
a millstone, Tom, when there is a hole in it? ” 

“ I don’t know what you mean.” 

“ You can come with us if you like, and then 
you will know all about it,” added John, mysteri¬ 
ously. 

“ But what are you going to do? ” 

“ We are going to make him hoist the American 
flag on his house, or hang it out of his window.” 

“ Well, suppose he won’t.” 

“ Then we’ll hang him where the flag ought to 
be. We’ll pull the house down over his head.” 

“ I’m with you, Jack,” replied Thomas, with 
enthusiasm. 

“ We won’t have a traitor in Pinchbrook. If 
we can’t cure him, we’ll ride him on a rail out of 
the town.” 

“ I don’t know as you and I ought to get into 
this scrape,” added Thomas, thoughtfully. 

“ Why not? ” 

“ You know the squire has a mortgage on our 
house, and he may get ugly.” 

“ Let him, if he likes. I’m not going to tolerate 
a traitor because he has a mortgage on my father’s 
house. Besides, that is a fair business transac¬ 
tion; the squire gets his interest.” 

“ Mother is afraid of him, as she is of the evil 
spirit.” 

Women are always timid,” said John, sagely. 

“ By George! there comes the very man him¬ 
self! ” exclaimed Thomas, as he discovered a horse 
and chaise slowly approaching. 

“ So it is; that old chaise looks rather the worse 


*4 


The Soldier Boy, or 

for the wear. It looks as though it had been 
through the wars.” 

The vehicle did bear very evident marks of hard 
usage. One of the shafts was broken, the dasher 
wrenched off, and the top stove in. The horse was 
covered with mud, and limped badly from the 
effects of his fall. The broken shaft and the 
harness were now plentifully adorned with ropes 
and old straps. In fact, the catastrophe had 
utterly ruined all claim which the chaise ever 
might have'had to be considered a “ halinsome 
kerridge.” 

“ There’ll be fun nearer home, I reckon,” said 
John, as he obtained his first view of the sour 
visage of the squire. 

“ Can’t help it,” added Thomas. 

“ Keep a stiff upper lip, Tom.” 

“ I intend to do so.” 

“ Don’t say a word about to-night, Tom.” 

“ Of course not.” 

When the chaise had approached near enough to 
enable the squire to recognize the author of his 
misfortunes, he stopped the horse, and got out 
of the vehicle, with the whip in his hand. 

“ Now, you young scoundrel, I will teach you 
to insult me and my son, and destroy my prop¬ 
erty. Stay in the chaise, Fred, and hold the 
horse,” he added to his son. 

But there was not much need of holding the 
horse now, for he was too lame to run fast or far. 
Thomas and John came to a halt; and if the 
squire had been a prudent man, he might ha<re 
seen by the flash of their eyes, that he was about 
to engage in an unsafe operation. 


25 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ I am going to horsewhip you within an inch 
of your life, you villain, you! ” roared the squire, 
brandishing the whip. 

“ No, you are not,” replied Thomas, coolly. 

“If you drop the weight of that lash on my 
brother, I’ll smash your head,” added John. 

The squire paused, and glanced at the wiry 
form of the young sailor. Better thoughts, or at 
least wiser ones, came to his aid. 

“ I can bring you to your senses in another 
way,” said he, dropping his whip, and getting 
into the chaise again. “ You will hear from me 
before the week is out.” 

“Let him go; don’t say a word, Tom,” added 
John. 

“ He will prosecute me, I suppose he means 
by that.” 

“Let him prosecute and be hanged! I’ll bet 
by to-morrow morninr he will think better of it. 
At any rate, he will find out what the people of 
Pinchbrook think of him.” 

The boys resumed their walk, and soon reached 
the store, where they found the group of idlers, 
that always frequent shops in the country, busily 
engaged in discussing the affair in which Thomas 
had been the principal actor. As the boys en¬ 
tered, the hero of the Pinchbrook Battle was 
saluted with a volley of applause, and his conduct 
fully approved and commended, for a copperhead 
in that day was an abomination to the people. 


26 


The Soldier Boy 5 or 




CHAPTER III. 

TAMING A TRAITOR. 

With the exception of Squire Pemberton, 
Pinchbrook was a thoroughly loyal town ; and the 
people felt that it was a scandal and a disgrace to 
have even a single traitor within its border. The 
squire took no pains to conceal his treasonable 
sentiments, though the whole town was in a blaze 
of patriotic excitement. On the contrary, he had 
gone out of his way, and taken a great deal of 
pains, to condemn the government and the people 
of the North. 

Squire Pemberton was a wealthy man, and he 
had always been a person of great influence in 
the place. He had occupied all the principal of¬ 
ficial positions in town and county. He had 
come to regard himself, as his townsmen were for 
the most part willing to regard him, as the social 
and political oracle of the place. What In* 
though in town meeting was general^ the sense 
of his fellow-citizens, and when he expressed him¬ 
self in words, his word was law. 

When, on Sunday morning, with Fort Sumter 
in ruins, with the national flag trodden under the 
feet of traitors, with the government insulted and 
threatened, Squire Pemberton ventured to speak 


27 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

in tones of condemnation of the free North, the 
people of Pinchbrook listened coldly, at first, to 
the sayings of their oracle; and when lie began to 
abuse the loyal spirit of the North, some ventured 
to dissent from him. The oracle was not in the 
habit of having men dissent, and it made him 
angry. His treason became more treasonable, his 
condemnation moi# bitter. Plain, honest men, 
to whatever party they might have belonged, were 
disgusted with the great man of Pinchbrook; and 
some of them ventured to express their disappro¬ 
bation of his course in very decided terms. Some 
were disposed to be indulgent because the Squire 
had a sister in Georgia who had married a plan 
ter. But there was not found a single person, 
outside of his own family, who was mean enough 
to uphold him in his treacherous denunciation 
of the government. 

The squire was too self-sufficient and opinion¬ 
ated to be influenced by the advice of friends or 
the warning of those who had suddenly become 
his enemies. He had so often carried the town to 
his own views, that, perhaps, he expected to man¬ 
ufacture a public sentiment in Pinchbrook that 
Tvould place the town on the side of the rebels. 
All day Sunday, and all day Monday, he rode 
about the Harbor preaching treason. He tried to 
convince the people that the South had all the 
right, and the North all the wrong; but he had 
never found them so obstinate and incredulous 
before. 

Towards night one of the ministers ventured 
to suggest to him that he was sowing the wind, 
and would reap the whirlwind. The good man 


28 The Soldier Boy, or 

even hinted that he had roused a storm of indig' 
nation in the town which he might find it difficult 
to allay. 

The squire laughed at the minister, and told 
him he was not afraid of any thing. He intended 
to speak his honest sentiments, as every citizen 
had a right to do; and he would like to see any 
man, or any body of men, who would dare to 
meddle with him. 

“ I am afraid you will see them, Squire Pember¬ 
ton,^ added the minister. 

“ Let them come where they please and when 
they please.” 

“ What will you do? What is your single arm 
against scores of strong men?” 

“ Nothing, perhaps, but I don’t fear them. I 
am true to my convictions; why need I fear?” 

“ I think your convictions, as you call them, 
are deluding you. Do you think Benedict Ar¬ 
nold’s convictions, if he had any, would have 
saved his neck from the halter ? ” 

“ Do you mean to compare me to * Benedict 
Arnold, sir?” 

“ I came to you, as a friend, to warn you of im¬ 
pending danger; and, as your friend, I am com¬ 
pelled to say that I don’t see much difference be¬ 
tween your position and that of Benedict Arnold.” 

“ Do you mean to insult me? ” 

“ Not at all, sir. I was only expressing my 
honest conviction. Instead of placing yourself 
on the side of your government, on the side of 
law and order, you are going about Pinchbrook 
Harbor denouncing the legitimate government of 
your country, and pleading the cause of rebels 
and traitors.” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 29 

“ Am I not at liberty to say what I please of the 
government? ” 

“ In ordinary times, you are. Just now, the 
country is in a state of war, and he who is not for 
the flag is against it. You may criticize the gov¬ 
ernment as its friend, but not as its foe. When 
armed men conspire against the peace of the land, 
he who pleads their cause is a traitor—nay, sir, 
don’t be angry; these are my convictions.” 

“ Political parsons have been the ruin of the 
country,” sneered the squire. “ That is my con¬ 
viction.” 

“ Squire Pemberton, I beg you not to be rash. 
If you must cherish these pernicious views, I en¬ 
treat you, keep them to yourself. You may think 
what you please, but the utterance of treason 
makes a traitor.” 

“ I shall proclaim my views from the housetop,” 
replied the squire, angrily, as he abruptly turned 
away from the minister. 

The squire continued obdurate to the last. 
Neither the persuasions of his friends nor the 
threats of his enemies had any effect in silencing 
his tongue; and as late as sundown on that day 
of the Great Awakening he was pouring treachery 
and treason into the ears of a neighbor who hap¬ 
pened to pass his house. Half an hour later in 
the day, there was a great gathering of men and 
boys at the bridge on the outskirts of the village. 
They were singing Hail Columbia and the Star- 
spangled Banner. Thomas and John Somers 
were there. 

Presently the assemblage began to move up the 
road which led to Squire Pemberton’s house, sing- 


30 The Soldier Boy, or 

mg patriotic songs as they marched. It was a 
multitude of persons for Pinchbrook; and no 
doubt the obnoxious oracle thought so when he 
saw the sea of heads that surrounded his dwell¬ 
ing. If this was a mob, it was certainly a very 
orderly mob, for the crowd thus far had done 
nothing worse than to sing the national airs. 

The arrangements had all been made before the 
multitude started from the place of rendezvous. 
Three gentlemen, the principal of whom was 
Captain Barney, had been appointed a committee 
to wait upon the squire, and politely request him 
to display the American flag on his premises. 

In the road, in front of the house, a large fire 
had been kindled, which threw a broad, bright 
glare on the house and the surrounding grounds. 
It was as light as day in the vicinity when the 
committee walked up to the front door of the 
house and rang the bell. The squire answered 
the summons himself. 

“ Squire Pemberton,” said Captain Barney, 
“ your fellow-citizens, about two hundred in num¬ 
ber, have called upon you with a simple and rea¬ 
sonable request.” 

“ What is it? ” demanded the squire. 

“ That you hoist the Stars and Stripes on your 
house.” 

“ I won’t do it!” roared the victim, as he 
slammed the door in the faces of the committee. 

“ That is insolence,” said Captain Barney, 
quietly. “ We will go in.” 

The captain led the way; but the door had 
been locked upon them. The shoulders of three 
stout men pressed against it, and the bolt 
yielded. 


3i 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ What do you mean, you villains?” thundered 
the squire, as he confronted the committee in the 
entry. 

“ You were so impolite as to close the door in 
our faces before we had finished our story,” re¬ 
plied the immovable old sea captain. 

“How dare you break in my door?” growled 
the squire. 

“ We shall do worse than that, squire, if you 
don’t treat us respectfully.” 

“ A man’s house is his castle,” added'the squire, 
a little more moderately. 

“ That’s very good law, but there isn’t a house 
in Pinchbrook that is big enough or strong enough 
to shield a traitor from the indignation of his 
fellow-citizens. We do not purpose to harm you 
or your property, if you behave like a reasonable 
man.” 

“ You shall suffer for this outrage,” gasped the 
squire, whose rage was increased by the cool and 
civil manner of Captain Barney. 

“ When you closed the door in my face, I had 
intimated that your fellow-citizens wish you to 
display the national flag.” 

“ I refuse to do it, sir.” 

“ Consider, squire, what you say. The people 
have made up their minds not to tolerate a traitor 
within the corporate limits of the town of Pinch- 
brook.” 

“ I am no traitor.” 

“ That is precisely what we wish you to dem¬ 
onstrate to your fellow-citizens assembled out¬ 
side to witness an exhibition of your patriotism.” 

“ I will not do it on compulsion.” 


32 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Then, sir, we shall be obliged to resort to dis¬ 
agreeable measures.” 

“What do you mean by that, sir?” asked the 
squire, who was evidently alarmed by the threat. 
“ Do you mean to proceed to violence? ” 

“ We do, Squire Pemberton,” answered Captain 
Barney, decidedly. 

“ O my country! ” sighed the victim, “ has it 
come to this? The laws will no longer protect 
her citizens.” 

“ That’s very fine, sir. Do you expect the laws 
to protect you while you are aiding and abetting 
those who are trying to destroy them? Is there 
any law to protect a traitor in his treason? But 
we waste time, Squire Pemberton. Will you dis¬ 
play the American flag?” 

“Suppose 1 refuse?” 

“ We will pull your house down over your head. 
We will give you a coat of tar and feathers, and 
remove you beyond the limits of the town. If you 
ever come back, we will hang you to the nearest 
tree.” 

“ Good Heaven! Is it possible that my fellow- 
citizens are assassins—incendiaries!” 

“ Your answer, squire.” 

“ For mercy’s sake, husband, do what they ask,” 
interposed his wife, who had been an anxious 
listener in the adjoining room. 

“ I must do it,” groaned the squire, speaking 
the truth almost for the first time in forty-eight 
hours. “Alas! where is our boasted liberty of 
speech! ” 

“Fudge! squire,” replied Captain Barney, con¬ 
temptuously. “ If your friend Jeff Davis should 


33 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

come to Massachusetts to-morrow, to preach a 
crusade against the North, and to raise an army 
to destroy the free institutions of the country, I 
suppose you think it would be an outrage upon 
free speech to put him down. We don’t think so. 
Up with the flag, squire.” 

“ Fred, you may hang the flag out at the front 
window up stairs,” said the squire to his son. 

“ All right, squire. Now a few words more, 
and we bid you good night. You may think what 
you please, but if you utter another word of trea¬ 
son in Pinchbrook during the term of your nat¬ 
ural life, the party outside will carry out the rest 
of the programme.” 

By this time Fred Pemberton had fastened the 
flag to one of his mother’s clothes poles, and sus¬ 
pended it out of the window over the porch. It 
was hailed with three tremendous cheers by the 
multitude who were in waiting to discipline the 
squire, and exorcise the evil spirit of treason and 
secession. 

The work of the evening was finished, not 
wholly to the satisfaction, perhaps, of a portion 
of the younger members of the assemblage, who 
would gladly have joined in the work of pillage 
and destruction, but much to the gratification of 
the older and steadier portion of the crowd, who 
were averse to violent proceedings. 


34 


The Soldier Boy, or 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE COMMITTEE COME OUT, AND TOM GOES IN. 

While the committee which the loyal citizens 
of Pinclibrook had appointed to conduct their 
case with Squire Pemberton were in the house, 
engaged in bringing the traitor to terms, the 
younger members of the assemblage were very 
impatient to know how matters were progressing. 
Thomas Somers was particularly anxious to have 
the affair brought to a crisis' In vain he and a 
few other of the young loyalists attempted to ob¬ 
tain a view of the interior of the house, where 
the exciting interview was in progress. 

Captain Barney, on shore as well as at sea, was 
a thorough disciplinarian. Of course, he was 
aware that his proceedings were technically ille¬ 
gal; that in forcing himself into the house of the 
squire he was breaking the law of the land; but 
it seemed to him to be one of those cases where 
prompt action was necessary, and the law was 
too tardy to be of any service. He was, however, 
determined that the business should be done with 
as little violence as possible, and he had in¬ 
structed the citizens at the bridge to do no need¬ 
less injury to the property or the feelings of the 
squire or his family. 

When he entered the house, he had stationed 


35 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

three men at the door to prevent any of the people 
from following him. He had also directed them 
not to enter the yard or grounds of the house until 
he gave the signal. These directions proved a 
great hardship to the boys in the crowd, and they 
were completely disgusted when they saw the flag 
thrown loose from the front window. 

The mansion of Squire Pemberton was an old* 
fashioned dwelling, about a hundred feet from the 
road. In front of it was a green lawn, adorned 
with several large buttonwood trees. There was 
no fence to enclose what was called the front yard. 
The crowd was assembled on this lawn, and 
agreeably to the directions of the leader, or chair¬ 
man of the committee, none of them passed into 
the yard in the rear and at the end of the house, 
which was separated from the lawn by a picket 
fence. 

Boys are instinctively curious to know what is 
going on, and the “ living room ” of the squire, in 
which the exciting conversation was taking place, 
was in the rear of the house. The windows on 
the front were dark and uncommunicative. The 
boys were restless and impatient; if there was to 
be any fun, they wanted to see it. Thomas was 
as impatient as his fellows, and being more 
enterprising than the others, he determined, while 
obeying the instructions of Captain Barney in the 
spirit, to disobey them in the letter. 

He had been a sufferer to the extent of two 
great wales on the calves of his legs by the trea¬ 
son of the squire, and no doubt he thought he 
ought to be regarded as an exception to those who 
were called on to observe the instructions of the 


36 The Soldier Boy, or 

chairman of the committee. Leaving the group 
of inquiring minds near the front door of the 
house, he walked down the driveway till he came 
to a rail fence, through which he crawled, and 
entered the field adjoining the garden of the 
squire. His fellow-citizens, men and boys, were 
too intently watching the house to heed him, and 
no one noticed his enterprising movement. 

From the field, he entered the garden, and made 
his way to the rear of the house. But even here, 
he was doomed to disappointment, for Mrs. Pem¬ 
berton had drawn her curtains. Our hero was 
not, however, to be utterly defeated, and as the 
curtains had not been fitted by an accomplished 
upholsterer, there were openings on either side, 
through which he might command a full view of 
the interior of the room. 

Thomas proceeded slowly and cautiously to ob¬ 
tain a position which would enable him to gratiiy 
his curiosity, and witness the humiliation of the 
haughty squire. Beneath the window which, he 
had chosen to look through, there was a cellar 
door, from which a pile of seaweed, placed upon 
it to keep the frost out of the cellar, had just been 
removed. The adventurous inquirer crept up the 
slippery boards, and gained the coveted position. 
He could not only see the committee and the 
squire, but he could hear all they said. He was 
perfectly delighted with the manner in which the 
captain put the question to the squire; and when 
the latter ordered Fred to hang out the flag, be 
was a little disposed to imitate the masculine 
occupants of the hen-house, a short distance from 
his perch; but Tom, as we have before intimated, 


37 


Tom Somers in the Army, 

had a very tolerable idea of the principles of 
strategy, and had the self-possession to hold his 
tongue, and permit the triumphant scene within 
to pass without a crow or a cheer. 

The battle had been fought and the victory won; 
and though Tom felt that he was one of the 
victors, he deemed it prudent, for strategical 
reasons, to commence a retreat. The cellar doors, 
as we have before hinted, were very slippery, hav¬ 
ing been thoroughly soaked with moisture while 
covered with the seaweed. When the hero of this 
unauthorized reconnoissance wheeled about to 
commence his retreat, his feet incontinently 
slipped up upon the inclined surface of the doors, 
and he came down heavily upon the rotten boards. 
This, in itself, would have been but an inconsider¬ 
able disaster, and he might still have withdrawn 
from the inconvenient locality, if circumstances 
had not conspired against him, as circumstances 
sometimes will, when they ought to be concilia¬ 
tory and accommodating. The force with which 
Tom fell upon the decayed boards was too much 
for them, and the unlucky adventurer became an¬ 
other victim to the treachery of rotten wood, 
which has hurled so many thousands from time 
into eternity. 

But Tom was not hurled so far as that on the 
present occasion, though for all practical pur¬ 
poses, for the succeeding half hour, he might as 
well have been a hundred fathoms under water, 
or beneath the wreck of a twenty-ton locomotive 
at the bottom of the river. That cellar door was 
a bad place to fall through, which may be ac¬ 
counted for on the supposition that it was not 


38 The Soldier Boy, or 

made to fall through. In his downward progress, 
Tom had unluckily struck his head against the 
side of the house; and when he landed at the bot¬ 
tom of the stairs, he was utterly oblivious to all 
distinctions between treason and loyalty. Tom 
was not killed, I need not inform the ingenious 
reader, or this would otherwise have been the last 
chapter of the story; but the poor fellow did not 
know whether he was dead or alive. 

In fact, he had not sense enough left to consider 
the question at all; for there he lay, in the gloom 
of the traitor’s dark cellar, silent and motion¬ 
less—a solemn warning to all our young readers 
of the folly and wickedness of indulging an ille¬ 
gal and sinful curiosity. It may seem cruel and 
inhuman in us to forsake poor Tom in this sad 
plight; but we must, nevertheless, go up stairs, in 
order that the sufferer may be duly and properly 
relieved in due and proper season. 

When the committee of three, appointed by the 
indignant loyalists of Pinehbrook, had completed 
their mission in the house of the squire, like sen¬ 
sible men they proposed to leave; and they so ex¬ 
pressed themselves, through their spokesman, to 
the unwilling host. They put their hats on, and 
moved into the front entry, whither they were 
followed by the discomfited traitor. They had 
scarcely left the room before a tremendous crash 
greeted the ears of that portion of the family 
which remained in the apartment. This was the 
precise moment at which poor Tom Somers found 
himself on the bottom of the cellar; or, to be 
entirely accurate, when he lost himself on the 
bottom of the cellar. 


39 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

Mrs. Pemberton heard the crash, and she very 
naturally concluded that the hour of retribution 
had actually come; that the terrible mob had com¬ 
menced the work of destruction. To her “ fear- 
amazed ” mind it seemed as though the whole 
side of the house had fallen in, and, for a mo¬ 
ment, she confidently expected the chimneys 
would presently go by the board, and the roof 
come thundering down upon the devoted heads 
of her outraged family. Perhaps, at that terrible 
moment, she wished her husband had been like 
other women’s husbands, a true and loyal man, 
cheering the old flag, and hurling harmless ana¬ 
themas at the graceless rebels. 

But the chimney did not go by the board, nor 
the roof come thundering down upon her head. 
There was not even a sound of destruction to be 
heard, and the sides of the house seemed to be 
firm and decided in their intention to maintain 
their perpendicular position. A few minutes 
later, when the committee announced to the mul¬ 
titude the success of their undertaking, and Fred 
had displayed the flag from the window, peal up¬ 
on peal of stunning huzzas saluted her ears, and 
the awful peril of the preceding moments appeared 
to be averted. The squire, having closed and bar¬ 
ricaded the broken door as well as he could, re¬ 
turned to the room, with curses deep and bitter 
upon his lips. He was not in the habit of swear¬ 
ing, but the magnitude of the occasion seemed to 
justify the innovation, and he swore hugely, 
roundly, awfully. He paced the room, ground 
his teeth, and stamped upon the floor. 

“ Father, did you hear that terrible racket just 


4 o 


The Soldier Boy, or 

now?” asked Mrs. Pemberton. “I thought tie 
side of the house had fallen in.” 

“ What racket? ” demanded the squire, pausing 
in his excited walk. 

“ I am sure they have broken something.” 

“It sounded as though it was down cellar,” 
added Susan, the daughter. 

“ What was it? ” asked the father. 

“ I don’t know. It sounded like breaking 
boards. Do go down cellar, and find out what it 
was.” 

“ The scoundrels! ” roared the squire, as tie 
rushed up and down the room again with the fury 
of a madman, “ I’ll teach them to break into my 
house! ” 

“ Be calm, father,” interposed Mrs. Pemberton, 
who, like most New England mothers, called her 
husband by the title which belonged exclusively 
to the children. 

“ Calm? How can I be calm? Don’t you he.tr 
the ruffians shout and yell?” 

“ They are only cheering the flag.” 

The squire muttered a malediction upon the 
flag, which would probably have procured for 
him a coat of tar and feathers, if the mob had 
heard it. Mrs. Pemberton was silent, for she had 
never seen her husband so moved before. She per¬ 
mitted him to pace the room in his frenzy till his 
anger Had, in some measure, subsided. 

“ I wish you would go down cellar and find 
out what that noise was,” said Mrs. Pemberton, 
as soon as she dared to speak again. “ Perha ps 
some of them are down there now. Who knows 
but they will set the house afire.” 


4 1 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

Squire Pemberton was startled by this sugges¬ 
tion, and, seizing the lamp, he rushed down cellar 
to prevent so dire a calamity. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE ATTIC CHAMBER. 

Squire Pemberton rushed down cellar. He 
was very much excited, and forgot that he had 
been troubled with the rheumatism during the 
preceding winter. When he opened the cellar 
door, he was considerably relieved to find that no 
brilliant light saluted his expectant gaze. It was 
as cold and dark in the cellar as it had been 
when he sorted over the last of his Warren Rus¬ 
sets, a few days before. 

It was certain, therefore, that the house was 
not on fire; and, invigorated by this thought, he 
descended the stairs. A strong current of fresh, 
cold air extinguished the light he carried. As 
this was contrary to his usual experience when 
he went down cellar in the evening after an apple 
or a mug of cider, it assured him that there was a 
screw loose somewhere. Returning to the room 
above, he procured a lantern, and proceeded to 
the cellar again to renew his investigations. 

The squire felt the cold blast of the April air, 
and immediately made his way to the cellar door, 
holding the lantern up as high as his head, to 
ascertain the nature of the mischief which the 
fanatical abolitionists had perpetrated. He saw 



42 


The Soldier Boy, or 

that the cellar door was broken through. The 
rotten boards lay upon the steps, and with an¬ 
other malediction upon the mob, he placed the 
lanter upon a barrel, and proceeded to repair the 
damage. As he stepped forward, he stumbled 
against the body of the enterprising hero of this 
volume, who lay as calm and still as a sleeping 
child. 

The squire started back, not a little alarmed at 
the sight of the motionless body. He felt as 
though a terrible retribution had fallen upon 
somebody, who had been killed in the act of at¬ 
tempting to destroy his property. Seizing his 
lantern, he retreated to the cellar stairs by which 
he had descended, and stood there for a moment, 
his tongue paralyzed, and his knees smiting each 
other, in the agony of terror. 

We do not know what he was afraid of, but we 
suppose that instinctive dread which some people 
manifest in the presence of death, had completely 
overcome him. Certainly there was nothing to be 
afraid of, for a dead man is not half so likely to 
do a person an injury as a living one. But in a 
few minutes Squire Pemberton in some measure 
recovered his self-possession. 

“ There is a dead man down here!” he called 
up the staircase, in quaking tones. 

“Mercy on us!” exclaimed Mrs. Pemberton. 
“Who is he?” 

“ I don’t know,” replied the squire. 

“ Look and see who it is, father,” added Mrs. 
Pemberton. “ Perhaps he isn’t dead.” 1 

“ Stone dead,” persisted the squire, “ He fell 
into the cellar and broke his neck,” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 4j 

“ Go and see who it is—will you? ” 

“ Well, you come down and hold the light,” 
said the squire, who was not quite willing to say 
that he was scared out of his wits. 

Mrs. Pemberton descended the stairs, followed 
by Susan and Fred, who had just returned from 
the front window, where he had exhibited the 
flag, which the crowd outside were still cheering. 

“Who can it be?” continued the old lady, as 
she slowly and cautiously walked forward to the 
scene of the catastrophe. 

“ I don’t know,” replied the squire, in whom the 
presence of his family had spurred up a sem¬ 
blance of courage; for if a man ever is brave, it is 
in the presence of his wife and children. “ If it 
is one of the ruffians who came here to destroy my 
house, I am glad he has lost his life in the at¬ 
tempt. It is a righteous retribution upon him for 
his wickedness.” 

Mrs. Pemberton took the lantern, and the 
squire, still excited and terrified, bent over the 
prostrate form of the young marauder. The vic¬ 
tim lay upon his face, and the squire had to turn 
him over to obtain a view of his countenance. 

“ I declare it is one of the Somers boys!” ex¬ 
claimed Mrs. Pemberton, as her husband brought 
the face of Thomas to her view. 

“The young villain!” ejaculated the squire. 
“ It is lucky he was killed, or the house would 
have been in flames before this time. He is a 
desperate young scoundrel.” 

“But he isn’t dead, father!” said Mrs. Pem¬ 
berton, as she knelt upon the cold ground, and 


44 The Soldier Boy, or 

felt the pulse of the insensible boy. “ He is only 
stunned.” 

“ I am sorry for it. If it had killed him, it 
would have served him right,” added the squire, 
who had suddenly become as bold as a lion—as 
bold as two lions. 

“ Come, father, let’s carry him up stairs, and 
put him to bed.” 

“ Do you think I am going to do anything for 
this young scoundrel! ” exclaimed the squire, in¬ 
dignantly. “ Why, he stoned Fred and me to-day, 
and stoned the horse, and made him run away 
and break the chaise all to pieces.” 

“ But we mustn’t leave him here in this situa¬ 
tion. He may die.” 

“ Let him die.” 

“ But what will folks say? ” 

The more humane wife evidently understood the 
weak point of the squire, for nothing but slavery 
and the Southern Confederacy could have induced 
him to set at defiance the public sentiment of 
Pinchbrook. 

“ Well, carry him up stairs then; but he never 
will get out of my house till he has been severely 
punished for his crimes.” 

The squire and Fred took hold of the senseless 
form of poor Tom, and carried it up stairs, where 
it was placed upon the sofa in the sitting room. 
Mrs. Pemberton had the reputation of being “ an 
excellent hand in sickness,” and she immediately 
applied herself to the duty of restoring the suf¬ 
ferer to consciousness. 

“ Don’t you think you had better go after the 
doctor, father?” asked the good woman. “ Some 


Tom Somers in the Army. 45 

of his bones may be broken, or he may be injured 
inwardly.” 

“ I shall not go for any doctor,” snarled the 
squire. “ Do you think I will trust myself out 
doors while that howling mob is hanging round 
the house ? ” 

“ Fred can go,” suggested Susan. 

“ He can, but he shall not,” growled the squire, 
throwing himself into his arm chair in the corner, 
with an appearance of indifference and unconcern, 
which were far from representing the actual state 
of his mind. 

Mrs. Pemberton said no more, but she and 
Susan went to work upon the sufferer with cam¬ 
phor and hartshorn in good earnest, and in a short 
time they had the satisfaction of seeing him open 
his eyes. They continued the treatment for some 
time longer, with the most satisfactory result, till 
Tom astonished them by jumping off the sofa, and 
standing up in the middle of the room. He rub¬ 
bed his forehead, hunched up his left shoulder, 
and felt of his shins. 

“ Are you hurt, Thomas?” asked Mrs. Pember¬ 
ton, with more of tenderness in her tones than 
the squire deemed proper for the occasion. 

“ No, inarm, I guess not,” replied Tom. “ My 
shoulder feels a little stiff, and I think I barked 
one of my shins; but I shall be as good as new by 
to-morrow.” 

But there was an ugly bump on the side of his 
head, which he had not yet discovered, but which 
Susan pointed out to him. He acknowledged the 
bump, but declared it was only a little sore and 
would be all right by the next day. 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ I feel pretty well,” continued Tom, “ and 1 
guess I’ll go home now.” 

“ I think you won’t, young man,” interposed 
Squire Pemberton. 

Tom looked at him, and for the first time since 
he had come to himself, he remembered in what 
manner he had received his injuries. He imme¬ 
diately came to the conclusion that he had got 
into a bad scrape. He was in the house of, and in 
the presence of, his great enemy. The events of 
the day passed in rapid succession through his 
mind, and he could not help thinking that he 
was destined to be the first victim in Pinchbrook 
to the war spirit which had just been awakened 
all over the country. 

The squire thought he would not go home, 
which was as much as to say he would not let 
him go home. Tom’s wits were a little confused, 
after the hard knock he had received upon the 
head, and all he could do was to stand and look 
at the oracle of Pinchbrook, and wait for further 
developments. 

“ Young man,” said the squire, sternly, and in 
tones that were intended to make a deep impres¬ 
sion upon the mind of the young man, “ your time 
has come.” 

The squire paused, and looked at the culprit 
to ascertain the effect of the startling announce¬ 
ment; but Tom seemed to be perfectly cool, and 
was not annihilated by the suggestive remark of 
the great man of Pinchbrook. 

“ You have become a midnight marauder,” 
added the squire, poetically. 

“ It isn’t seven o’clock yet,” said Tom pointing 


Tom Somers in the Army. 47 

to the great wooden clock in the corner of the 
room. 

“ You joined a mob to pillage and destroy the 
property of a peaceable citizen. Y r ou broke in 

__ V 

“ No, sir; the cellar door broke in,” interposed 
the culprit. 

“ Y r ou broke into my house to set it afire! ” 
continued the squire, in a rage. 

“ No, sir, I did not. I only went round there to 
see the fun,” replied Tom, pointing to the rear 
of the house; “and the cellar door broke down 
and let me in. I did not mean to do you or your 
house any harm; and I didn’t do any, except 
breaking the cellar door, and I will have that 
mended.” 

“ Don’t tell me, you young villain! You meant 
to burn my house.” 

“ No, I didn’t mean any thing of the kind,” re¬ 
plied Tom, stoutly. “ I was going off when the 
door broke down. The boards were rotten, and 
I should think a man like you ought to have 
better cellar doors than those are.” 

The squire didn’t relish this criticism, especially 
from the source whence it came. There was a 
want of humility on the part of the culprit which 
the magnate of Pinchbrook thought would be ex¬ 
ceedingly becoming in a young man in his situa¬ 
tion. The absence of it made him more angry 
than before. He stormed and hurled denuncia¬ 
tions at the offender; he rehearsed the mischief he 
had done during the day, and alluded in strong 
terms to that which he intended to perpetrate in 
the “ dead watches of the night ”—which was the 



48 The Soldier Boy, or 

poetical rendering of half-past six in the evening; 
for the squire was fond of effective phrases. 

Tom ventured to hint that a man who would 
not stand by his country when her flag was in¬ 
sulted and “ trailed in the dust ”—Tom had read 
the daily papers—ought to be brought to his 
senses by such expedients as his fellow-citizens 
might suggest. Of course this remark only in¬ 
creased the squire’s wrath, and he proceeded to 
pronounce sentence upon the unlucky youth, 
which was that he should be taken to the finished 
room in the attic, and confined there under bolts 
and bars till the inquisitor should further declare 
and execute his intentions. 

Mrs. Pemberton and Susan demonstrated 
against this sentence, prudently suggesting the 
consequences which might result from detaining 
the boy. But the squire declared he should not 
go till he had at least horsewhipped him; and if 
there was any justice left in the land, he would 
send him to the county jail in the morning. 

Tom wanted to resist the execution of his sen¬ 
tence, but he was still weak from the effects of his 
fall, and he could not expect to vanquish both the 
squire and his son; so, with an earnest protest, he 
permitted himself to be led to the attic chamber. 
The squire thrust him into the room, and after 
carefully securing the door, left our hero to medi¬ 
tate upon the reverse of fortune which had over¬ 
taken him. 


Tom Somers in the Army, 


49 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE WAY IS PREPARED. 

Where do you suppose Thomas is?” said Mrs. 
Somers, as she glanced at the clock, which indi¬ 
cated half-past nine. 

“ I don’t know,” replied John. “ He can’t be a 
great ways off. I saw him in front of the squire’s 
house when the committee went in.” 

“ The boy’s gone down to the Harbor again with 
the rest of the folks, talking about the war,” added 
gran’ther Greene, as he rose from his chair, and 
hobbled into his chamber adjoining the kitchen. 

At ten o’clock, the mother began to be a little 
uneasy; and at eleven, even John had some fears 
that all was not well with his brother. Neither 
of them was able to suggest anything that could 
possibly have happened to the absentee. There 
had been no battle fought, and so nobody could 
have been killed. There had been no violence used 
in the transactions of the evening further than 
breaking in the front door of Squire Pemberton,, 
so that it was not easy to believe that any acci¬ 
dent had happened to him. 

John had given a glowing account of the pro¬ 
ceedings at the house of the squire and the family 
had been much interested and excited by the stir- 


5° 


The Soldier Boy, or 

ring narrative. His mother was perfectly satis¬ 
fied, as no one had been injured, and hoped the 
great man of Pinchbrook would be brought to his 
senses. All these topics had been fully discussed 
during the evening. John had informed his 
mother that Captain Benson, who had formerly 
commanded the Pinchbrook Riflemen, intended to 
raise a company for the war. He mentioned the 
names of half a dozen young men who had ex¬ 
pressed their desire to join. The family had sug¬ 
gested that this and that man would go, and thus 
the long evening passed away. 

“ I don’t see what has become of Thomas,” said 
Mrs. Somers, when the clock struck eleven, as she 
rose from her chair and looked out of the window. 

“Well, I don’t see, either,” replied John. a I 
don’t believe there is anything going on at this 
time of night.” 

“ I hope nothing has happened to him,” con¬ 
tinued the anxious mother, as she went to the door- 
mid looked out, hoping, perhaps, to discover him 
in the gloom of the night, or to hear his familiar 
step. 

“What could have happened to him?” asked 
John, who did not believe his brother was fool 
enough to fall overboard, or permit any serious 
accident to happen to him. 

“ I don’t know. I can’t see what has got the 
boy. He always comes home before nine o’clock. 
Have you heard him say anything that will give 
you an idea where he is?” 

“ He hasn’t said anything to me.” 

“ Try, and see if you can’t think of something,” 
persisted the anxious mother. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 51 

“ He hasn’t talked of anything but the war since 
yesterday morning.” 

“ What did he say?” 

“ I don’t know, now,” answered John, musing. 
“ He said he should like to join the army, and go 
down and fight the rebels.” 

Mrs. Somers had heard as much from him, but 
she had given no particular attention to his re¬ 
marks on this subject, for they seemed wild and 
visionary. John’s words, under the present cir¬ 
cumstances, appeared to be full of importance; 
and taking her stocking, she seated herself before 
the stove, and resumed her knitting. She was; 
silent now, for her heart was heavy with the pre¬ 
monitions of impending trouble. 

“ I will take a walk down to the Harbor, 
mother, and see if I can find anything of him. 
There may be something going on there that I 
don’t know about. He may be at the store, talk¬ 
ing about the war with Captain Barney and the 
rest of the folks.” 

Mrs. Somers offered no objection to this plan, 
and John put on his cap, and left the house. The 
poor mother brooded upon her trouble for another 
hour, and with every new moment, the trouble 
seemed more real. The clock struck twelve before 
John returned; and more than once during his 
absence, as she plied her needles, she had wiped 
away a tear that hung among the furrows of her 
care-worn cheek. She had been thinking of her 
husband, as well as of her son. He was, or soon 
would be, in the midst of the traitors, and she 
trembled for him. Uncle Wyman was a seces¬ 
sionist; and, beyond this, she had not much con* 


52 The Soldier Boy, or 

fidenee in his integrity, and if Captain Somers 
came home at all, his property would all be swept 
away, and he would be a beggar. 

The events of that day were not calculated to 
conciliate Squire Pemberton towards them, and 
the farm and the cottage would pass away from 
them. All these things had been considered and 
reconsidered by the devoted mother. Poverty and 
want seemed to stare her in the face; and to add 
to all these troubles, Thomas did not come home, 
and, as fond mothers will, she anticipated the 
worst. 

John entered the kitchen, and carelessly flung 
his cap upon the table. Mrs. Somers looked at 
him, and waited patiently to,hear any intellb 
gence he might bring. But John threw himself 
Into a chair, looking more gloomy than before be 
left the house. He did not speak, and therefore 
he had no good news to tell. 

“ You didn’t see anything of him—did you?” 
asked Mrs. Somers; but it was a useless question, 
for she had already interpreted the meaning of his 
downcast looks. 

“ No, mother; there isn’t a man, woman, or 
child stirring in the village; and I didn’t see a 
light in a single house.” 

“ What do you suppose can have become of 
him? ” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know. Tom is old enough 
and smart enough to take care of himself.” 

“ It’s very strange.” 

“ So it is. I haven’t any idea what has become 
of him ” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 53 

“ Did you look around Squire Pemberton’s 
house, where he was seen last ? ” 

“ I looked about on both sides of the road, going 
and coming from the Harbor. I whistled all the 
way, and if he had been any where round, he 
would have whistled back, as he always does.” 

“ What do you suppose has become of him?’* 
demanded the poor mother, worried beyond ex¬ 
pression at the mysterious disappearance of her 
son. 

“ I can’t tell, mother.” 

“ Don’t you think we had better call up the 
neighbors, and have something done about it?” 

“ I don’t know,” replied John, hardly less 
anxious than his mother. 

“ I don’t suppose they would be able to find 
him if we did,” added Mrs. Somers, wiping away 
the tears from her face. 

“ I can’t think anything has happened to him, 
mother. If he had been on the water, or any* 
thing of that kind, I should feel worse about it.” 

“ If I only knew where he was, I shouldn’t feel 
so bad about it,” said she; and her position, cer¬ 
tainly, was a reasonable one. 

“ What’s the matter, sister?” called gran’ther 
Greene, from his chamber. “ Hasn’t that boy 
got home yet?” 

“ No, he hasn’t come yet, and I am worried to 
death about him,” replied Mrs. Somers,, opening 
the door of her brother’s room. 

“ What o’clock is it? ” 

“ After twelve. Thomas never stayed out so 
late in his life before. What do you suppose has 
become of him?” 


54 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Law sake! I haven’t the leastest idea/’ an¬ 
swered the old man. “ Thomas is a smart boy, 
and knows enough to keep out of trouble.” 

“ That’s what I say,” added John, who had un¬ 
limited confidence in his brother’s ability to take 
care of himself. 

“ I’ll tell you what I think, John,” said Mrs. 
Somers, throwing herself into her chair with an 
air of desperation. 

But she did not tell John what she thought: on 
the contrary, she sat rocking herself in silence, as 
though her thought was too big and too momen¬ 
tous for utterance. 

“ Well, what do you think, mother?” asked 
John, when he had waited a reasonable time for 
lier to express her opinion on the exciting topic. 

Mrs. Somers rocked herself more violently than 
before, and made no reply. 

“ What were you going to say? ” 

“ I think the boy has gone off to Boston, and 
gone into the army,” replied she, desperately, as 
though she had fully made up her mind to com¬ 
mit herself to this belief. 

“ Do you think so, mother?” 

“ I feel almost sure of it.” 

“ I don’t think so, mother. Tom wouldn’t have 
gone off without saving something to me about 
it.” 

“ If he wouldn’t say it to me, he wouldn’t be 
likely to say it to you, John. It don’t look a bit 
like Thomas to go off and leave his mother in this 
way,” moaned the poor woman, wiping away a 
deluge of tears that now poured from her eyes. 


Tom Somers ii. the Army. 55 

“ I don’t believe he has done any such thing, 
mother,” protested John. 

“ I feel almost certain about it, now. If the 
boy wanted to go, and couldn’t stay at home, he 
ought to have told me so.” 

“ He did say he wanted to go.” 

“ I didn’t think he really meant it. I want my 
boys to love their country, and be ready to fight 
for it. Much as I should hate to part with them, 
if they are needed, they may go; but I don’t like 
to have them run away and leave me in this mean 
way. I shouldn’t feel half so bad if I knew 
Thomas was in the army now, as I do to think he 
ran away from home, just as though he had done 
some mean thing. I am willing he should go, and 
he wouldn’t be a son of mine if he wasn’t ready 
to go and fight for his country, and die for her 
too, if there was any need of it. I didn’t think 
Thomas would serve me in this way.” 

“ I don’t believe he has.” 

“ I know he’s gone. I like his spunk, but if he 
had only come to me and said he must go, I 
wouldn’t have said a word; but to go off without 
bidding us good by—it’s too bad, and I didn't 
think Thomas would do such a thing.” 

Mrs. Somers rose from her chair, and paced the 
room in the highest state of agitation and ex¬ 
citement. The rockers were not adequate to the 
duty required of them, and nothing less than the 
whole floor of the kitchen was sufficient for the 
proper venting of her emotion. 

“ Do you mean to say, mother, that you would 
have given him leave to go, even if he had teased 
you for a month?” asked John. 


S6 


The Soldier Bov. or 


<4 Certainly I should,” replied his mother, stop¬ 
ping short in the middle of the floor. “ I’m ready 
and willing to have my boys fight for their coun¬ 
try, but I don’t want them to sneak off as though 
they had been robbing a hen-roost, and without 
even saying good by to me.” 

"If Tom were here, do you mean to say you 
would let him go?” demanded John, earnestly. 

44 Certainly I do; I mean so. But I don’t think 
there is any need of boys like him going, when 
there are men enough to do the fighting.” 

44 You told Tom he shouldn’t go.” 

44 Well, I didn’t think he really meant it. If he 
had—What’s that, John?” asked she, suddenly, 
as a noise at the window attracted her attention. 

44 Only the cat, mother.” 

44 If Thomas or you had asked me in earnest, 
and there was need of your going, I wouldn’t 
have kept either of you at home. I would go to 
the poorhouse first. My father and my brother 
both fought for their country, and my sons shall 
when their country wants them.” 

44 Then you are willing Tom should go? ” 

44 1 am, but not to have him sneak off like a 
slieep-stealer.” 

44 Three cheers for you, mother!” shouted 
Thomas, as he threw up the window at which he 
had been standing for some ten minutes listening 
to this interesting conversation. 

44 Where have you been, Thomas?” exclaimed 
the delighted mother. 

44 Open the door. Jack, and let me in, and I will 
tell you all about it,” replied the absentee. 

44 Come in; the door isn’t locked,” said John. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 57 

He came in; and what he had to tell will inter¬ 
est the reader as well as his mother and his 
brother. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 

Tom Somers was an enterprising young man, as 
our readers have already discovered; and when 
the door of the finished room in the attic of Squire 
Pemberton’s house was fastened upon him, he was 
not at all disposed to submit to the fate which 
appeared to be in store for him. The idea of be¬ 
coming a victim to the squire’s malice was not to 
be entertained, and he threw himself upon the 
bed to devise some means by which he might make 
his escape. 

The prospect was not encouraging, for there 
was only one window in the chamber, and the dis¬ 
tance to the ground was suggestive of broken 
limbs, if not of a broken neck. Tom had read the 
Life of Baron Trenck, and of Stephen Burroughs, 
but the experience of neither of these worthies 
seemed to be available on the present occasion. 

As the family had not yet retired, it would not 
be safe to commence operations for some hours. 
The stale, commonplace method of tying the 
sheets and blankets together, and thus forming a 
rope by which he could descend to the ground, oc¬ 
curred to him; but he had not much confidence in 
the project. He lay quietly on the bed till he 
heard tiie clocks on the churches at the Harbor 



58 The Soldier Boy, or 

strike twelve. It was time then, if ever, for the 
family to be asleep, and he decided to attempt an 
escape by another means which had been sug¬ 
gested to him. If it failed, he could then resort 
to the old-fashioned way of going down on the 
rope made of sheets and blankets. 

The apartment in which Tom was confined was 
not what people in the country call an “ upright 
chamber.” The sides of the room were about 
four feet in height; and a section of the apart¬ 
ment would have formed one half of an irregular 
octagon. In each side of the chamber there was 
a small door, opening into the space near the 
eaves of the house, which was used to store old 
trunks, old boxes, the disused spinning-wheel, 
and other lumber of this description. Tom had 
been in the attic before, and he remembered these 
doors, through one of which he now proposed to 
make his escape. 

When the clock struck twelve, he cautiously 
rose from the bed, and pulled off his boots, which 
a proper respect for his host or the bed had not 
prompted him to do before. The house was old, 
and the floors had a tendency to creak beneath his 
tread. With the utmost care, he crawled on his 
hands and knees to one of the doors of the lumber 
hole, which he succeeded in opening without much 
noise. 

Making his way in among the old boxes, trunks, 
and spinning-wheels, he was fully embarked in his 
difficult venture. The dust which he stirred up in 
his progress produced an almost irresistible desire 
to sneeze, which Lord Dundreary might have 
been happy to indulge, but which might have 


59 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

been fatal to the execution of Tom Somer’s pur¬ 
pose. He rubbed his nose, and held his hand¬ 
kerchief over the intractable member, and suc¬ 
ceeded in overcoming its dangerous tendency. His 
movements were necessarily very slow, for he was 
in constant dread lest some antiquated relic of 
the past should tumble over, and thus disturb the 
slumbers of the family who occupied the cham¬ 
bers below. 

But in spite of the perils and difficulties that 
environed his path, there was something exciting 
and exhilarating in the undertaking. It was a 
real adventure, and, as such, Tom enjoyed it. 
As he worked his way through the labyrinth of 
antiquities, he could not but picture to himself 
the surprise and chagrin of Squire Pemberton, 
when he should come up to the attic chamber to 
wreak his vengeance upon him. He could see the 
magnate of Pinchbrook start, compress his lips 
and clinch his fists, when he found the bird had 
flown. 

“ Better not crow till I get out of the woods,” 
said he to himself, while his imagination was 
still busy upon the agreeable picture. 

After a series of trials and difficulties which 
our space does not permit us to describe in full, 
Tom emerged from the repository of antiquities, 
and stood in the open space in front of the fin¬ 
ished chamber. With one boot in each hand, he 
felt his way to the stairs, and descended to the 
entry over the front door. All obstacles now 
seemed to be overcome, for he had nothing to do 
but go down stairs and walk out. 

It often happens, amid the uncertainties of 


6o 


The Soldier Boy, or 

this unstable world, that we encounter the 
greatest trials and difficulties precisely where we 
expect to find none. As Tom walked along the 
entry, with one hand on the rail that protected 
the staircase to guide him, he struck his foot 
against the pole upon which Fred Pemberton had 
suspended the flag out of the window. It was 
very careless of the squire, when he took the 
flag in. to leave the stick in that unsafe position, 
for one of his own family might have stumbled 
against it, and broken a leg or an arm, or pos¬ 
sibly a neck; and if it might have been a “cause 
of offence ” to one of the Pembertons, it certainly 
laid a grievous burden upon the shoulders of poor 
Tom Somers. 

When the pole fell, it made a tremendous 
racket, as all poles will when they fall just at 
the moment when they ought to stand up, and be 
decent and orderly. This catastrophe had the ef¬ 
fect to quicken the steps of the young man. He 
reached the stairs, and had commenced a rapid 
descent, when the door of the squire’s room, which 
was on the lower floor, opened, and Tom found 
himself flanked in that direction. 

“Who’s there? What’s that?” demanded the 
squire, in hurried, nervous tones. 

Tom was so impolite as to make no reply to 
these pressing interrogatories, but quickly re¬ 
treated in the direction from which he had come. 

“ Wife, light the lamp, quick,” said the squire, 
in the hall below. 

Just then a door opened on the other side of the 
entry where Tom stood, and he caught a faint 
glimpse of a figure robed in white. Though it 


b 1 


Tom Somers in the Army 

was the solemn hour of midnight, and Tom, I am 
sorry to say, had read the Three Spaniards, and 
Mysteries of Udolpho, he. rejected the suggestion 
that the “ sheeted form ” might he a ghost. 

“ Who’s there? ” called the squire again. 

A romantic little scream from the figure in 
white assured Tom that Miss Susan was the 
enemy immediately on his front. Then he caught 
the glimmer of the light below, which Mrs. Pem¬ 
berton had procured, and the race seemed to be 
up. Concealment was no longer practicable, and 
he seized upon the happy suggestion that the win¬ 
dow opening upon the portico over the front door 
was available as a means of egress. 

Springing to the window, he raised it with a 
prompt and vigorous hand, and before the squire 
could ascend the stairs, he was upon the roof of 
the portico. Throwing his boots down, he 
grasped the gutter, and “ hung off.” He was now 
on terra firma, and all his trials appeared to have 
reached a happy termination; but here again he 
was doomed to disappointment. 

“ Bow, wow, wow-er, woo, row! ” barked and 
growled the squire’s big bull dog, when he came to 
realize that some unusual occurrences were tran¬ 
spiring. 

The animal was a savage brute, and was kept 
chained in the barn during the day, and turned 
loose when the squire made his last visit to the 
cattle about nine in the evening. Tom was 
thoroughly alarmed when this new enemy con¬ 
fronted him; but fortunately he had the self-pos¬ 
session to stand his ground, and not attempt to 


02 


The Soldier Boy, or 

run away, otherwise the dog would probably have 
torn him in pieces. 

“ Come here, Tige! Poor fellow! Come here! 
He’s a good fellow! Don’t you know me, Tige? ” 
said Tom, whose only hope seemed to be in con¬ 
ciliation and compromise. 

If Tige knew him, he appeared to be very un¬ 
willing to acknowledge the acquaintance under 
the present suspicious circumstances, and at this 
unseemly hour. The brute barked, snarled, 
howled, and growled, and manifested as strong an 
indisposition to compromise as a South Carolina 
fire-eater. He placed himself in front of the hero 
of the night’s adventure, as resolute and as in¬ 
tractable as though he had known all the facts in 
the case, and intended to carry out to the letter 
the wishes of his master. 

Tom slowly retreated towards the garden fence, 
the dog still following him up. He had tried 
coaxing and conciliation, and they had failed. 
As he cautiously backed from the house, his feet 
struck against a heavy cart stake, which seemed 
to suggest his next resort. He was well aware 
that any quick movement on his part would cause 
the dog to spring upon him. Placing his toe un¬ 
der the stake, he raised it with his foot, till he 
could reach it with his hand, keeping his gaze 
fixed upon the eyes of the dog, which glared Jikc 
fiery orbs in the gloom of the hour. 

Tige saw the stick, and he appeared to have a 
wholesome respect for it—a sentiment inspired by 
sundry beatings, intended to cure a love of mut¬ 
ton on the hoof, or beef on the shelf. The brute 
retreated a few paces; but at this moment Squire 


Tom Somers in the Army. 63 

Pemberton appeared at the front door, with a 
lantern in his hand. He understood the situa¬ 
tion ” at a glance. 

“ Take him, Tige! Stu’ boy!” shouted the 
squire. 

The dog snarled an encouraging reply to this 
suggestion, and moved up towards the fugitive. 
Tom’s courage was equal to the occasion, and he 
levelled a blow at the head of the bull dog, which, 
if it had hit him fairly, must have smashed in his 
skull. As it was, the blow was a heavy one, and 
Tige retreated; but the shouts of the squire rallied 
him, and he rushed forward to the onslaught 
again. 

Tom, as we have before had occasion to suggest, 
was a master of strategy, and instead of another 
stroke at the head of his savage foe, with only one 
chance in ten of hitting the mark he commenced 
swinging it vigorously to the right and left, as 
a mower does his scythe. His object was to hit 
the legs of the dog—a plan which was not entirely 
original with him, for he had seen it adopted with 
signal success by a fisherman at the Harbor. T]ie 
consequence of this change of tactics was soon ap¬ 
parent, for Tige got a rap on the fore leg, which 
caused him to yelp with pain, and retire from the 
field. While the dog moved off in good order in 
one direction, Tom effected an equally admirable 
retreat in the other direction. 

On reaching the road, he pulled on his boots, 
which he had picked up after the discomfiture of 
his canine antagonist. Squire Pemberton still 
stood at the door trying to bring Tige to a sense 
of his duty in the trying emergency; but the brute 


64 


The Soldier Boy, or 

had more regard for his own shins than he hai 
for the mandate of his master, and the victor was 
permitted to bear away his laurels without further 
opposition. 

When he reached his father’s house, supposing 
the front door was locked, he went to the kitchen 
window, where lie had heard the patriotic re¬ 
marks of his mother. Tom told his story in sub¬ 
stance as we have related it. 

“Do you mean what you have said, mother?” 
inquired he, when he had finished his narrative. 

Mrs. Somers bit her lip in silence for a mo¬ 
ment. 

“ Certainly T do, Thomas,” said she, desperately. 

It was halp-past one when the boys retired, but 
it was another hour before Tom’s excited brain 
would permit him to sleep. His head was full of 
a big thought. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

SIGNING THE PAPERS. 

Thomas went to sleep at last, and, worn out by 
the fatigue and excitement of the day, he slept 
long and soundly. His mother did not call him 
till eight o’clock, and it was nine before he 
reached the store of his employer, where the re¬ 
cital of the adventure of the preceding night 
proved to be a sufficient excuse for his non-ap¬ 
pearance at the usual hour. 

In the course of the week Captain Benson had 



Tom Someis in the Army. 65 

procured tlie necessary authority to raise a com¬ 
pany for three years or for the war. When he ex¬ 
hibited his papers, he found twenty persons ready 
to put down their names. A recruiting office was 
opened at the store, and every day added to the 
list of brave and self-denying men who were ready 
to go forward and fight the battles of liberty and 
union. The excitement in Pinchbrook was fanned 
by the news which each day brought of the zeal 
and madness of the traitors. 

Thomas had made up his mind, even before 
his mother had been surprised into giving her 
consent, that he should go to the war. At the 
first opportunity, therefore, he wrote hj.s name 
upon the paper, very much to the astonishment of 
Captain Benson and his employer. 

“How old are you, Tom?” asked the captain. 

“ I’m in my seventeenth year,” replied the 
soldier boy. 

“ You are not old enough.” 

“ I’m three months older than Sam Thompson; 
and you didn’t even ask him how old he was.” 

“ He is larger and heavier than you are? ” 

“ I can’t help that. I’m older than he is, and 
I think I can do as much in the way of fighting 
as he can.” 

“ I don’t doubt that,” added the captain, laugh¬ 
ing. “ Your affair with Squire Pemberton shows 
that you have pluck enough for anything [ 
should be very glad to have you go ; but what does 
your father say?” 

“ He hasn’t said anything. He isn’t at home. 
He went away before Sumter was fired upon by 
the rebels.” 


66 The Soldier Boy, or 

“ True—I remember. What does your mother 

<say ? ” 

“ O, she is willing.” 

u Are you sure, Tom ? ” 

“ Of course, I am. Suppose you write some¬ 
thing by which she can give her consent, and she 
will sign it.” 

Captain Benson drew up the document, and 
when Tom went home to dinner, he presented it to 
his mother for her signature. 

“ I hope you won’t back out, mother,” said 
he, as she put on her spectacles, and proceeded to 
ascertain the contents of the document. 

“ Back out of what, Thomas?” 

“I’ve signed the muster roll, and I belong to 
Captain Benson’s company now.” 

“ You! ” exclaimed Mrs. Somers, lowering the 
paper, and gazing earnestly into the face of the 
young man, to discover whether he was in 
earnest. 

“ Yes, mother; you said you were willing, and 
I have signed the papers; but Captain Benson 
wants your consent in writing, so that there shall 
be no mistake about it.” 

The mother read the paper in silence and sad¬ 
ness, for the thought of having her noble boy ex¬ 
posed to the perils of the camp and the march, 
the skirmish and the battle, was terrible, and 
nothing but the most exalted patriotism qould 
induce a mother to give a son to his country. 

“ I don’t want to sign this paper, Thomas,” 
said she, when she had finished reading it. 

“ Have you forgot what you said the other 
night, mother? ” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 67 

“ No, I haven’t forgot it, and I feel now just 
as I did then. If there is any real need of your 
going, I am willing you should go.” 

“ Need ? Of course there is need of soldiers. 
The President wasn’t joking when he called for 
seventy-five thousand men.” 

“ But there are enough to go without you.” 

“ That’s just what everybody might say, and 
then there wouldn’t be anybody to go.” 

“ But you are young, and not very strong.” 

“ I’m old enough, and strong enough. When I 
can get a day to myself, I don’t think it’s any 
great hardship to carry father’s heavy fowling- 
piece from sunrise to sunset; and I guess I can 
stand it to carry a musket as long as any of 
them.” 

“ You are only a boy.” 

“ I shall be a man soon enough.” 

“ When you have gone, John will want to go 
too.” 

“ No, mother, I don’t want to go into the army,” 
said John, with a sly wink at his brother. “ I 
shall never be a soldier if I can help it.” 

“ What am I going to do, if you all go off and 
leave me?” added Mrs. Somers, trying hard to 
keep down a tear which was struggling for birth 
in her fountain of sorrows. 

“ I don’t think you will want for anything, 
mother. I’m sure I wouldn’t leave you, if I 
thought you would. I don’t get but two dollars 
and a half a week in the store, and I shall have 
eleven dollars a month in the army, and it won’t 
cost me any thing for board or clothes. I will 
send every dollar I get home to you.” 


68 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ You are a good boy, Thomas,” replied Mrs. 
Somers, unable any longer to restrain the tear. 

I know you and John both will do every thing 
you can for me. If your father was only at home, 
I should feel different about it.” 

“ He would believe in my fighting for my coun¬ 
try, if he were here.” 

“ I know he would,” said Mrs. Somers, as she 
took the pen which Thomas handed her, and 
seated herself at the table. “If you are deter¬ 
mined to go, I suppose you will go, whether I am 
willing or not.” 

“No, mother, I will not,” added Thomas, de¬ 
cidedly. “ I shouldn’t have signed the muster 
roll if you hadn’t said jou were willing. And if 
you say now that you won’t consent, I will take 
my name off the paper.” 

“ But you want to go—don’t you? ” 

“I do; there’s no mistake about that: but 1 
won’t go if you are not willing.” 

Mrs. Somers wrote her name upon the pape^. 
It was a slow and difficult operation to her, and 
during the time she was thus occupied, the rest 
of the family watched her in silent anxiety. Per¬ 
haps, if she had not committed herself on the 
eventful night when she fully believed that 
Thomas had run away and joined the army, she 
might have offered more and stronger objections 
than she now urged. But there was a vein of 
patriotism in her nature, which she had inherited 
from her father, who had fought at Bunker Hill, 
Brandywine, and Germantown, and which had 
been exemplified in the life of her brother; and 


Tom Somers in the Army. 69 

this, more than any other consideration, induced 
her to sign the paper. 

Thousands of loving and devoted mothers have 
given their sons to their country in the same holy 
enthusiasm that inspired her. She was not a 
solitary instance of this noble sacrifice, and if 
both her sons had been men, instead of boys, she 
would not have interposed a single objection to 
their departure upon a mission so glorious as that 
to which Thomas had now devoted himself. 

“ There’s my name, Thomas,” said his mother, 
as she took off her spectacles. “ I’ve done it, and 
you have my free consent. You’ve always been a 
good boy, and I hope you will always be a good 
soldier.” 

“ I shall always try to do my duty, mother; 
and if ever I turn my back to a rebel, I hope you’ll 
disown me.” 

“ Good, Tom!” exclaimed John, who had been 
deeply interested in the event of the hour. 

“ Well, Thomas, I’d rather face two rebels than 
that bull dog you fit with t’other night,” added 
gran’ther Greene. “ You are as bold as a lion, 
Thomas.” 

“ Do you think I can stand it, gran’ther?” 

“ Stand it? Well, Thomas, it’s a hard life to be 
added Tom, with a smile. 

a soldier, and I know something about it. When 
we marched from-” 

“ Dinner’s ready,” interposed Mrs. Somers, for 
gran’ther Greene had marched that march so 
many times that every member of the family knew 
it by heart. 



70 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ There’s one good thing about it, Tom,” said 
John: “you have got a first-rate captain.” 

“ I’m thankful you are going with Captain Ben¬ 
son, for if there ever was a Christian in Pinch- 
brook, he is the man,” added Mrs. Somers. 

“ And all the company will be your own friends 
and neighbors,” said gran’ther Greene; “ and 
that’s something, I can tell you. I know some¬ 
thing about this business. When we marched 
from-” 

“ Have some more beans, brother? ” asked Mrs. 
Somers. “ You will be among your friends, 
Thomas, as gran’ther says.” 

“ That’s a great thing, I can tell you,” added 
the veteran. “ Soldiers should stick together like 
brothers, and feel that they are fighting for each 
other, as well as for the country. Then, when 
you’re sick, you want friends. When we marched 
from Sackett’s Harbor, there was a young fel¬ 
ler-” 

“Have some more tea, brother?” 

“ Part of a cup, Nancy,” replied the old man, 
who never took offence even when the choicest 
stories of his military experience were nipped in 
the bud. 

After dinner, Thomas hastened back to the 
store. That day seemed to him like an epoch in 
his existence, as indeed it was. He felt that he 
belonged to his country now, and that the honor 
of that old flag, which had been insulted by trai¬ 
tors, was committed to his keeping. He was tak¬ 
ing up the work where his grandfather had left 
it. He was going forth to fight for his country, 
and the thought inspired him with a noble arid 




Tom Somers in the Army. 71 

generous enthusiasm, before which all the as¬ 
pirations of his youth vanished. 

As he passed the house of Squire Pemberton, 
he bestowed a pitying reflection upon the old 
traitor; but his mind was so full of the great 
event which was dawning upon him, that he did 
not even think of the exciting incidents which 
had occurred there. He had neither seen nor 
heard any thing of the squire since he had escaped 
from the attic chamber. 

Just beyond the squire’s house he met Captain 
Barney, who was riding up to the town hall. 

“ What’s this I hear of you, Tom ? ” demanded 
the captain, as he reined in his horse. “ They say 
you have joined the company.” 

“ Yes, sir. I have.” 

“ Bravo! my bov. Good on your head! You 
ought to go out as a brigadier general. What 
does your mother say? ” 

“ I have her written consent in my pocket.” 

“All right. God bless you, my bov!” said 
the old salt, as he started his horse. 

“ Thank you, sir. There’s only one thing that 
troubles me.” 

“EL? What’s that, my boy?” demanded Cap¬ 
tain Barney as he reined up the horse again. 

“ I suppose you have heard of my scrape at 
Squire Pemberton’s the other night.” 

“Yes; and shiver my timbers if I didn’t want 
to keelhaul the old traitor when I heard of it.” 

“I don’t care anything about the scrape, sir; 
only Pm afraid the squire will bother my mother 
when I’m gone,” said Thomas, with some diffi¬ 
dence. 


72 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ If he does, he’ll settle the matter with Jack 
Barney,” replied the captain, decidedly. 

“ My father may never come back, you know, 
and if he does he will be a beggar. He owes the 
squire a note, which will be due in June.” 

“ I’ll pay it myself!” roared Captain Barney. 
“ Go and fight for your country, Tom, like a man. 
I’ll call and see your mother once a week, or every 
day in the week, if you say so. She shall not want 
for any thing as long as I have a shot in the 
locker.” 

“Thank you, Captain Barney; thank you, sir.” 

“I’ll take care of your mother, my lad, and 
I’ll take care of the squire. He shall not fore¬ 
close that mortgage, Tom. Don’t bother your 
head about any of those things. You’re a good 
boy, Tom, and I’ll keep every thing all right at 
home.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” repeated the soldier boy, as 
Captain Barney started his horse again. 

The captain was a retired shipmaster, of ample 
means, and Tom knew that he was not only able, 
but willing, to do all he had promised. His heart 
was lighter; a load had been removed from his 
mind. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE DEPARTURE. 

At the time of which we write, recruiting offi¬ 
cers were not very particular in regard to the age 
of those whom they received into the volunteer 



73 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

army. If the young man seemed to have the req¬ 
uisite physical qualifications, it was of little 
consequence what his age was; and Tom Somers 
was tall enough and stout enough to make a very 
good soldier. 

Captain Benson examined the certificate 
brought to him by the young recruit, not, how¬ 
ever, because it was deemed a necessary legal 
form, but because he was acquainted with his 
father and mother, and would not willingly have 
done any thing to displease them. The matter, 
therefore, was disposed of to the satisfaction of 
all the parties concerned, and Tom actually com¬ 
menced his career as a soldier boy. He imme¬ 
diately resigned his situation in the store, for the 
company now numbered forty men, not half a 
dozen of whom had any knowledge whatever of 
military drill. 

As the volunteers of the Pinchbrook company 
could ill afford to lose the time devoted to drill 
before they should be mustered into the service 
of the United States, the town voted to pay each 
man fifteen dollars a month for three months. 
This generous and patriotic action of the town 
rejoiced the heart of Tom Somers, for his mother 
actually needed the pittance he had earned at 
the store. Mrs. Somers had heard nothing from 
her husband; but the destruction of the Gosport 
Navy Yard, and the seizure of several northern 
vessels in the harbor of Norfolk, left her little 
to hope for in that direction. Suddenly an im¬ 
pregnable wall seemed to rise up between the 
North and the South, and she not only feared 
that Captain Somers had lost all his worldly pos- 


74 


The Soldier Boy, or 

sessions, but that he would hardly be able to 
escape himself from the fiery furnace of seces¬ 
sion and treason. 

To her, therefore, the future looked dark and 
forbidding. She foresaw that she and her family 
would be subjected to the pressure of want, or 
at least be dependent upon the kindness of friends 
for support. She had freely stated her fears to 
her children, and fully exhibited the insufficiency 
of the family resources. The vote of the town 
was a perfect godsend to Tom, and a fat legacy 
from a rich relative would not have kindled a 
stronger feeling of gratitude in his soul. 

For the next five weeks, Tom was employed 
forenoon, afternoon, and evening, in the drill, and 
he soon made himself proficient. The company 
was recruited nearly up to its maximum number, 
and was then attached to the—th regiment, 
which had just been formed and ordered to Fort 
Warren. 

On the 27th day of May, the company, escorted 
by the patriotic citizens of Pinchbrook, marched 
to Boston, and Tom took a sorrowful farewell 
of his mother, his brother and sisters, and a score 
of anxious friends. 

“ Now don’t let the rebels hit you in the back¬ 
bone, Thomas,” said gran’ther Green, as he shook 
the hand of the soldier boy. 

“ No, gran’ther; if I can’t fight, I won’t run 
away,” replied Tom. 

“ You’ve got good blood in your veins, my 
boy: don’t disgrace it. I don’t know as you’ll 
ever see me again, but God bless you, Thomas; ” 
and the old man turned away to hide the tears 


75 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

which began to course down his wrinkled cheek. 

“ Be a good boy, Thomas/ 7 added his mother. 

“ I will, mother.” 

“ And remember what I’ve been telling you. 
I’m not half so much afraid of your being killed 
by a bullet, as I am of your being ruined by bad 
men.” 

“ You needn’t fear any thing of that kind, 
mother.” 

“ I shall pray that you may be saved from your 
friends as well as from your enemies. We shall 
see you again before you go off, I hope.” 

“Yes, mother; we shall not be sent south yet.” 

“ Don’t forget to read your Testament, 
Thomas,” said Mrs. Somers. 

“ I won’t, mother,” replied the soldier boy, as 
he again shook hands with all the members of 
the family, kissed his mother and bis sisters, and 
hitching up his knapsack, took his place in the 
ranks. 

His heart seemed to be clear up in his throat. 
During the tender scene he had jnd massed 
through, he had manfully resisted his in:-']nation 
to weep, but he could no longer restrain t v ^ tears. 
Suddenly they came like a flood bursting the 
gates that confined it, and he choked and sobbed 
like a little girl. He leaned upon his musket, 
covering his face with his arm. 

“It’s a. hard case,” said private Hapgood, who 
stood next to him in the ranks. 

“ I didn’t think it would take me down like 
this,” sobbed Tom. 

“Don’t blubber, Tom. Let’s go off game,” 
added Ben Lethbridge, who stood on the other 
side of him. 


76 


The Soldier Boy, or 


“ I can’t help it, Ben.” 

“ Yes, you can—dry up! Soldiers don’t cry, 
Tom.” 

“ Yes, they do, my boy,” said Hapgood, who 
was a little old man, nearly ten years beyond the 
period of exemption from military duty. “ I 
don’t blame Tom for crying, and, in my opinion, 
he’ll fight all the better for it.” 

“ Perhaps he will, old un; but I don’t think 
much of a soldier that blubbers like a baby. I 
hope he won’t run away when he sees the rebels 
coming,” sneered Ben. 

“ If he does, he’ll have a chance to see how thick 
the heels of your boots are,” answered the old 
man. 

“What do you mean by that, old un?” de¬ 
manded Ben. 

“Attention—company! Shoulder—arms! For¬ 
ward—march! ” said the captain ; and the discus¬ 
sion was prevented from proceeding any further. 

The band, which was at the head of the citizens’ 
column, struck up an inspiring march, and Tom 
dried his tears. The escort moved off, followed 
by the company. They passed the little cottage 
of Captain Somers, and Tom saw the whole family 
except John, who was in the escort, standing at 
the front gate. The old soldier swung his hat, 
Tom’s sisters and his mother waved their hand¬ 
kerchiefs; but when they saw the soldier boy, they 
had to use them for another purpose. Tom felt 
another upward pressure in the region of the 
throat; but this time he choked down his rising 
emotions, and saved himself from the ridicule 
of his more callous companion on the left. 


77 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

In violation of military discipline, he turned 
his head to take one last, fond look at the home 
he was leaving behind. It might be the last 
time he should ever gaze on that loved spot, now 
a thousand times more dear than ever before. 
Never had he realized the meaning of home; 
never before had he felt how closely his heart’s 
tendrils were entwined about that hallowed place. 
Again, in spite of his firmness and fortitude, and 
in spite of the sneers of Ben Lethbridge, he felt 
the hot tears sliding down his cheek. 

When he reached the brow of the hill which 
wouid soon hide the little cottage from his view, 
perhaps forever, he gazed behind him again, to 
take his last look at the familiar spot. His 
mother and sister still stood at the front gate 
watching the receding column in which the son 
and the brother was marching away to peril and 
perhaps death. 

“ God bless my mother! God bless them all!” 
were the involuntary ejaculations of the soldier 
boy, as he turned away from the hallowed scene. 

But the memory of that blessed place, sanctified 
by the presence of those loving and devoted ones, 
was shrined in the temple of his heart, ever to 
go with him in camp and march, in the perils of 
battle and siege, to keep him true to his God, 
true to himself, and true to those whom he had 
left behind him. That last look home and 
those that make it home, like the last fond gaze 
we bestow on the loved and the lost, was treasured 
up in the garner of the heart’s choicest memories, 
to be recalled in the solemn stillness of the mid¬ 
night vigil, amid the horrors of the battle-field 


78 


The Soldier Boy, or 

when the angry strife of arms had ceased, and in 
the gloom of the soldier’s ^ick bed when no 
mother’s hand was near to lave the fevered brow. 

The moment when he obtained his last view of 
the home of his childhood seemed like the most 
eventful period of his existence. His heart grew 
big in his bosom, and yet not big enough to con¬ 
tain all he felt. He wept again, and his tears 
seemed to come from deeper down than his eyes. 
He did not hear the inspiring strains of the band, 
or the cheers that greeted the company as they 
went forth to do and die for their country’s im¬ 
perilled cause. 

“ Blubbering again, Tom?” sneered Ben Leth¬ 
bridge. “ I thought you was more of a man than 
that, Tom Somers.” 

“ I can’t help it, Ben,” replied Tom, vainly 
struggling to subdue his emotions. 

“ Better go back, then. We don’t want a great 
baby in the ranks.” 

“ It’s nateral, Ben,” said old Hapgood. “ He’ll 
get over it when he sees the rebels.” 

“ Don’t believe he will. I didn’t think you 
were such a great calf, Tom.” 

“ Shet up, now, Ben,” interposed Hapgood. 
“ I’ll bet my life he’ll stand fire as well as you 
will. I’ve been about in the world some, and I 
reckon I’ve as good an idee of this business as 
you have. Tom’s got a heart under his ribs.” 

“ I’ll bet he runs away at the first fire.” 

“ I’ll bet he won’t.” 

“ I know I won’t! ” exclaimed Tom, with 
energy, as he drew his coat sleeve across his 
eyes. 


79 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ It isn’t the cock that crows the loudest that 
will fight the best,” added the old man. “ I’ll 
bet Tom will be able to tell you the latest news 
from the front, where the battle’s the hottest. 
I fit my way up to the city of Mexico long er 
old Scott, and I’ve heard boys crow afore to¬ 
day.” 

“ Look here, old un! If you mean to call me 
a coward, why don’t you say so, right up and 
down?” growled Ben. 

“ Time’ll tell, my boy. You don’t know what 
gunpowder smells like yet. If you’d been with 
the fust Pennsylvany, where I was, you’d a-known 
sunthin about war. Now, sliet up, Ben; and 
don’t you worry Tom any more.” 

But Tom was no longer in a condition to be 
worried. Though still sad at the thought of the 
home and friends he had left behind, he had 
reduced his emotions to proper subjection, and 
before the column reached Boston, he had even 
regained his wonted cheerfulness. The proces¬ 
sion halted upon the wharf, where the company 
was to embark on a steamer for Fort Warren. 
As the boat which was to convey them to the 
fort had not yet arrived, the men were permitted 
to mingle with their friends on the wharf, and, 
of course, Tom immediately sought out his 
brother. He found him engaged in a spirited con¬ 
versation with Captain Benson. 

“ What is it, Jack? ” asked the soldier boy. 

“ I want to join this company, and the cap* 
tain won’t let me,” replied John. 

“ You, Jack! ” 

“ Yes, I.” 


8o 


The Soldier Boy, or 


“ Did mother say so? ” 

“ No, but she won’t care.” 

“ Did you ask her?” 

“ No; I didn’t think of going till after I started 
from home.” 

“ Don’t think of it. Jack. It would be an awful 
blow to mother to have both of us go.” 

For half an hour Tom argued the matter with 
John; but the military enthusiasm of the latter 
had been so aroused by the march and its attend¬ 
ant circumstances, that he could not restrain 
his inclination. 

"If I don’t join this company, I shall some 
other,” said John. 

"I shall have to go home again, if you do; 
for I won’t have mother left alone. We haven’t 
been mustered in yet. Besides, I thought you 
wanted to go into the navy.” 

"I do; but I’m bound to go somehow,” replied 
John. 

But what neither Tom nor Captain Benson 
could do, was accomplished by Captain Barney, 
who declared John should go home with him if 
he had to take him by the collar. The ardent 
young patriot yielded as gracefully as he could 
to this persuasion. 

The steamer having arrived, the soldiers shook 
hands with their friends again, went on board, 
and, amid the hearty cheers of the citizens of 
Pinchbrook, were borne down the bay. 


Tom Somers in the Armv, 


81 


CHAPTER X. 

COMPANY K. 

Tom Somers felt that he was now a soldier 
indeed. While the company remained in Pinch- 
brook, he had slept every night in his own bed, 
and taken his meals in the kitchen of the little 
cottage. He fully realized that he had bade a 
long farewell to all the comforts and luxuries 
of home. That day, for the first time, he was to 
partake of soldiers’ fare, and that night, for the 
first time, he was to sleep upon a soldier’s bed. 
These thoughts did not make him repine, for be¬ 
fore he signed the muster roll, he had carefully 
considered, with the best information he could 
obtain, what hardships and privations he would 
be called to endure. He had made up his mind 
to bear all things without a murmur for the 
blessed land of his birth, which now called upon 
her sons to defend her from the parricidal blow 
of the traitor. 

Tom had not only made up his mind to bear 
all these things, but to bear them patiently and 
cheerfully. He had a little theory of his own, 
that ratiier more than half of the discomforts 
of this mortal life exist only in the imagination. 
If he only thought that every thing was all 


82 


The Soldier Boy, or 


right, it went a great way towards making it 
all right—a very comforting and satisfactory 
philosophy, which reduced the thermometer from 
ninety down to seventy degrees on a hot day 
in summer, and raised it from ten to forty de¬ 
grees on a cold day in winter; which filled his 
stomach when it was empty, alleviated the tooth¬ 
ache or the headache, and changed snarling babies 
into new-fledged angels. I commend Tom’s phil¬ 
osophy to the attention and imitation of all mv 
young friends, assured that nothing will keep 
them so happy and comfortable as a cheerful 
and contented disposition. 

“ Tom Somers,” said a voice near him, cutting 
short the consoling meditation in which he was 
engaged. 

His name was pronounced in a low and cautious 
tone, but the voice sounded familiar to him, and 
he turned to ascertain who had addressed him. 
He did not discover any person who appeared to 
be the owner of the voice, and was leaving the 
position he had taken on the forward deck of the 
steamer, when his name was repeated, in the same 
low and cautious tone. 

“ Who is it? Where are you? ” said Tom, look¬ 
ing all about him, among the groups of soldiers 
who were gathered on various parts of the deck, 
discussing the present and the future. 

“ Here, Tom,” replied the voice, which sounded 
more familiar every time he heard it. 

He turned his eye in the direction from which 
the sound proceeded, and there, coiled up behind 
a heap of barrels and boxes, and concealed by a 
sail-cloth which had been thrown over the goods 


Tom Somers in the Army. 83 

to protect them from an expected shower, he dis¬ 
covered Fred Pemberton. 

“ What in the name of creation are you doing 
there, Fred?” exclaimed Tom, laughing at the 
ludicrous attitude of the embryo secessionist. 

“ Hush! Don’t say a word, Tom. Sit down 
here where I can talk with you,” added Fred. 

"What are you doing here?” 

“ I’ll tell if you will keep quiet a moment. Is 
the company full ? ” 

“ What company ? ” 

“ Captain Benson’s, of course.” 

“ No.” 

“ I want to join.” 

“ You ! ” eaculated Tom. 

“ Come, come, Tom, no blackguarding now. 
l r ou and I used to be good friends.” 

“ I’ve nothing against you, Fred—that is, if 
you’re not a traitor.” 

“ I want to join the company.” 

“ Is your father willing? ” 

“ Of course he isn’t; but that needn’t make 
any difference.” 

“ But you don’t believe in our cause, Fred. 
We don’t want a traitor in the ranks.” 

" Hang the cause! I want to go with the 
company.” 

“ Hang the cause? Well, I reckon that’s a good 
recommendation.” 

“ I’m all right on that.” 

u Are you willing to take the oath of allegiance, 
and swear to sustain the flag of your country?” 

“ Of course I am. I only followed the old man’s 
lead; but I have got enough of it. Do you think 


8 4 


The Soldier Boy, or 


Captain Benson will take me into the company? ” 

“ Perhaps he will.” 

“ Ask him—will you? You needn’t say I’m 
here, you know.” 

“ But what will your father say? ” 

“ I don’t care what he says.” 

Tom thought, if Fred didn’t care, he needn’t, 
and going aft, he found the captain, and proposed 
to him the question. 

“ Take him—yes. We’ll teach him loyalty and 
patriotism, and before his time is out, we will 
make him an abolitionist,” replied Captain Ben¬ 
son. “What will his father say?” 

“ His father doesn’t know anything about it. 
Fred ran away, and followed the company into 
the city.” 

“ Squire Pemberton is a traitor, and I believe 
the army will be the best school in the world for 
his son,” added the captain. “ It will be better 
for him to be with us than to be at home. If 
it was the son of any other man in Pinchbrook, 
I wouldn’t take him without the consent of his 
father; as it is, I feel perfectly justified in accept¬ 
ing him.” 

Tom hastened to the forward deck to report the 
success of his mission. The result was, that Fred 
came out of his hiding-place, and exhibited him¬ 
self to the astonished members of the Pinchbrook 
company. When he announced his intention to 
go to the war, and, with a pardonable flourish, 
his desire to serve his country, he was saluted 
with a volley of cheers. Captain Benson soon 
appeared on the forward deck, and the name of 
the new recruit was placed on the enlistment 
paper. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 85 

Fred was seventeen years of age, and was 
taller and stouter than Tom Somers. No ques¬ 
tions were asked in regard to his age or his 
physical ability to endure the hardships of a 
campaign. 

The steamer arrived at Fort Warren, and the 
company landed. After waiting a short time 
on the wharf, the color company of the —th regi¬ 
ment, to which they were attached, came down 
and escorted them to the parade ground within 
the fort. It was a desolate and gloomy-looking 
place to Tom, who had always lived among green 
fields, and the. beautiful surroundings of a New 
England rural district. 

If the fort itself looked dreary, how much more 
so were the casemates in which the company 
w T as quartered! But Tom’s philosophy was proof 
against the unpleasant impression, and his joke 
was as loud and hearty as that of any of his 
companions. The men were divided off into 
messes, and they had an abundance of work to 
do in bringing up the company’s luggage, and 
making their new habitation as comfortable and 
pleasant as the circumstances would permit. 

The next day the Pinchbrook boys were desig¬ 
nated as Company K, and placed in the regi¬ 
mental line. The limits of this volume do not 
permit me to detail the every-day life of the sol¬ 
dier boy while at Fort Warren, however interest¬ 
ing and instructive it might be to our friends. 
A large portion of the forenoon was devoted to 
squad and company drill, and of the afternoon 
to battalion drill. The colonel, though a very 
diminutive man in stature, was an enthusiast 


86 


The Soldier Boy, or 

in military matters, and had the reputation of 
being one of the most thorough and skilful officers 
in the state. Tom Somers, who, since he joined 
the company, had felt ashamed of himself be¬ 
cause he was no bigger, became quite reconciled 
to his low corporeal estate when he found that the 
colonel of the regiment was no taller and no 
heavier than himself. And when he heard the 
high praise bestowed upon the colonel’s military 
skill and martial energy, he came to the conclu¬ 
sion that it does not require a big man to make 
a good soldier. With a feeling of satisfaction 
he recalled the fact that Napoleon Bonaparte, 
when he commanded the army of Italy, was 
scarcely a bigger man than the colonel or him¬ 
self. 

The colonel was a strict disciplinarian, and 
he soon diffused his energy throughout the regi¬ 
ment. It made rapid progress in its military 
education. Tom was deeply interested in the de¬ 
tails of his new profession, and used his best en¬ 
deavors to do his duty promptly and faithfully. 
This was not the case with all the boys in the 
company from Pinchbrook, and I am sorry to 
say that some of them, including the brave and 
chivalric Ben Lethbridge, had to sit upon the 
stool of repentance in the guard room on several 
occasions. 

Fred Pemberton was clothed in the uniform of 
the United States volunteers, and we must do 
him the justice to say that he performed his duty 
to the entire satisfaction of his officers. Fred 
was a good fellow, and barring his treason, which 
be had derived from his father, was highly es- 


Tom Somers in the Army. 87 

teemed by those who knew him. The only stain 
that had ever rested upon his character was re¬ 
moved, and he and Tom were as good friends as 
ever they had been. His motive in joining the 
army, however, could not be applauded. He 
thought all his friends were going off to the South 
upon a kind of frolic, spiced with a little of peril 
and hardship to make it the more exciting, and 
he did not like the idea of being left behind. To 
the sentiment of patriotism, as developed in the 
soul of Tom Somers and many of his companions, 
he was an entire stranger. He was going to the 
war to participate in the adventures of the —tli 
regiment, rather than to fight for the flag which 
had been insulted and dishonored by treason. 

Every day the steamers brought crowds of 
visitors to the fort to see their friends in the 
regiments quartered there, or to witness the drills 
and parades which were constantly succeeding 
each other. Among them came many of the peo¬ 
ple of Pinchbrook, and Tom was delighted by a 
visit from his whole family. His mother found 
him so comfortable and contented that she re¬ 
turned with half the heavy burden on her soul 
removed. 

While the Pinchbrook boys were generally re¬ 
joiced to see their friends from home, there was 
one in the company who was in constant dread 
lest he should recognize a too familiar face in 
the crowds which the steamers daily poured into 
the fort. Fred Pemberton did not wish to see his 
nearest friends; but after he had been in the com¬ 
pany some ten days, just as the boys had been 
dismissed from the forenoon drill, he discovered 


88 


The Soldier Boy, or 


at a distance the patriarchal form of his father. 

“ My pipe’s out, Tom,” said Fred, as he rushed 
into the casemate where a group of his companions 
were resting from the fatigues of the morning. 

“ What’s the matter now, Fred ? ” 

“ The old man has just come into the fort.” 

“Has he?” 

“Yes—what shall I do?” 

“ Keep a stiff upper lip, Fred, and we will put 
you through all right,” said Sergeant Porter. 

“What shall I do?” demanded Fred, who, 
whatever his views in regard to the justice or in¬ 
justice of coercion, did not wish to be taken from 
the company. 

“ Come with me,” said the sergeant, as he led 
the way into an adjoining casemate. “No; no¬ 
body else will come,” added he, motioning back 
other members of the mess who was disposed to 
follow. 

In the casemate to which Sergeant Porter con¬ 
ducted Fred, there was a pile of boxes, in which 
the muskets of one of the regiments had been 
packed. The fugitive from his father’s anxious 
search was directed to get into one of these boxes, 
from which the sergeant removed the gun rests. 
He obeyed; his confederate put on the lid so as 
to permit him to receive a plentiful supply of 
air, and other boxes were placed upon that con¬ 
taining the runaway. 

Squire Pemberton presented himself before Cap¬ 
tain Benson, and demanded his son. Fred was 
sent for, but could not be found. Sergeant Por¬ 
ter kept out of the way, and not another man 
in the company knew anything about him. The 


8 9 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

boys were very willing to assist the indignant 
father in his search, but all their efforts were 
unavailing. The squire examined every casemate, 
and every nook and corner upon the island, but 
without effect. 

“ I want my son, sir,” said the squire, angrily, 
to the captain. “ I require you to produce him.” 

“ I don’t know w r here he is,” replied Captain 
Benson. 

u You have concealed him, sir.” 

4 ‘ I have not.” 

The squire appealed to the colonel, but obtained 
no satisfaction, and was obliged to leave without 
accomplishing his purpose. As soon as he had 
gone, Fred appeared, and the boys laughed for a 
w r eek over the affair. 


CHAPTER XI. 

IN WASHINGTON. 

On the 17th of June, the regiment left Fort 
Warren, and after being conveyed by steamer 
to Boston, marched to Camp Cameron. Here 
the “ little colonel ” displayed his energy and 
military skill to much greater advantage than 
when within the narrow confines of the fort. 
The men were not only carefully and persistently 
drilled, but they w^ere educated, as far as the 
circumstances w r ould permit, for the arduous du¬ 
ties of a campaign. 

Tom Somers had already begun to feel a sol- 



9 o 


The Soldier Boy, or 


dier’s pride in his new situation; and though he 
found that being a soldier boy was not always 
the easiest and the pleasantest thing in the world, 
he bore his trials with philosophical patience 
and fortitude, and made the most of whatever 
joys the circumstances placed within his reach. 

Others grumbled, but lie did not. He declared 
that he had enlisted for the war, and meant to 
take things as they came. It was not exactly 
agreeable to stand on guard for two hours, on a 
cold, rainy night; but grumbling would not make 
it any the more agreeable, and only made the 
grumbler discontented and unhappy. It did not 
look like “ the pomp and circumstance of war,” 
and no doubt most of the boys in the Pinehbrook 
company would have been better satisfied in their 
own houses in “ the village by the sea.” But 
most of these men had left their happy homes un¬ 
der the inspiration of the highest and truest 
motives. They were going forth to fight the 
battles of their imperilled country, and this re¬ 
flection filled them Avith a heroism which the petty 
trials and discomforts of the camp could not 
impair. 

While the regiment was at Camp Cameron, 
the state colors and a standard, procured by the 
liberality of its friends, were presented; and the 
patriotic speeches delivered on this occasion made 
a deep impression upon the mind and heart 
of the soldier boy. To him they were real— 
perhaps more real than to those who uttered the 
burning words. He was in a situation to feel 
the full force of the great sacrifice which the 
* ldier makes for his country. He devoted him- 


9i 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

self, heart and soul, to tne cause; and what was 
but an idle sentiment in the mind of the flowery 
speech-makers, was truth and soberness to him 
who was to meet the foe at the cannon’s mouth 
and at the bayonet’s point. 

“ We are off on the 29th,” said old Hapgood, 
one evening, as he entered the barrack where Tom 
was writing a letter to his mother. 

“ Good! I am glad to hear it. I was just tell* 
ing my mother that I hoped we should not have 
to stay much longer in this place,” replied Tom. 

“ I think we are having an easy time of it here,” 
added the veteran. “ When you find out what 
hunger and fatigue mean, you will learn to be 
contented with such a place as this.” 

“ I’m contented enough; but I want to get into 
the field, and have something done.” 

“ Time enough, my boy. I used to feel just 
so, Tom, when I went to Mexico; but after a while 
I got so I didn’t care what we did or where we 
went.” 

Tom added a postscript to his letter, informing 
his mother of the time fixed for the departure 
of the regiment. The intelligence in this instance 
proved to be correct, for on the appointed day 
the little colonel marched his command into the 
city, where it was duly embarked on the cars 
for New York. It was a day of excitement, 
for the streets of the city were thronged with 
people, whose cheers and applause were the beni- 
son with which the regiment went forth to do 
and to die for the nation. Tom was delighted 
with this warm reception, but more by meeting 
his mother and his brother and sisters at the sta- 


i )2 The Soldier Boy, or 

tion. It was a joyous and yet a sad meeting. 
Mrs. Somers wept; and what mother would not 
weep to see her son go forth to encounter the 
perils of the battle-field, and the greater perils 
of the camp? 

It was a sad parting; and many a mother’s 
heart was torn with anguish on that day, when 
she pressed her noble boy to her bosom, for the 
last time, as she gave him to his country. Cold, 
stern men, who had never wept before, wept 
then—the flesh that was in their stony hearts 
yielded its unwilling tribute to nature and af¬ 
fection. 

“ All aboard! ” shouted the officers, when the 
train was ready to depart. 

“ God bless you, my boy I ” sobbed Mrs. Somers, 
as she kissed her son. “ Be good and true, and 
don’t forget to read your Testament.” 

“ Good by, mother,” was all that Torn could 
say, as he grasped his musket, which John had 
been holding for him, and rushed into the car. 

The train moved off amid the cheers of the * 
thousands who had gathered to witness their de¬ 
parture. At this moment, more than ever before, 
the soldier boy realized what he had done when 
he entered the service. He listened to the shouts 
of the multitude, but he was sad and silent. He 
sank into his seat, and gave himself up to the an¬ 
guish of the hour. On and on dashed the train, 
and his thoughts still dwelt upon the home and 
the mother he had left behind him. 

Our readers can better imagine than we can 
describe the feelings of the soldier boy during 
that long night. The regiment arrived in New 


93 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

¥ork at half-past ten in the forenoon of the fol¬ 
lowing day, and was escorted up Broadway by 
the Sons of Massachusetts. At the Park, it" was 
warmly welcomed by the President of the Sons, 
and as the little colonel was a better soldier than 
a speech-maker, the response was made by the 
surgeon. By this time, Tom was able to enter 
into the spirit of the occasion, and the flattering 
ovation bestowed upon the regiment was a source 
of personal pride and satisfaction. The little 
colonel’s command was declared to be the best 
drilled and most soldierly body of men which had 
yet departed for the battle-fields of the republic. 

The great city was full of wonders to the soldier 
boy, and during the few hours he remained there, 
he was in a constant whirl of excitement. If 
the mission before him had been less grand and 
sublime, iie could have wished to spend a few days 
in exploring the wonders of the great metropolis; 
but the stupendous events that loomed up in the 
future, prophetic even to the inexperienced eye 
of youth, engrossed all his thoughts. He par¬ 
took of the bountiful collation in the Park, and 
was content to march on to scenes more thrilling 
and exciting than the tumult of the busy city. 

The regiment took a steamer, at half-past four 
for Elizabethport, and thence proceeded by rail¬ 
road to Washington, by the way of Harrisburg. 
Some portions of the journey were performed un¬ 
der the most trying circumstances. The men 
were crowded, like sheep, into unsuitable cars, 
so that not only were they subjected to many 
needless discomforts, but their very lives were 
endangered. On the way, two men were crowded 


94 The Soldier Boy, or 

out of a car, and, for a time, were supposed to 
have been killed. 

On the 2d of July, they arrived at Washington, 
and Toni had an opportunity to see the “ city of 
magnificent distances,” of which he had heard so 
much. The regiment marched from the station, 
through Pennsylvania Avenue, to their camp 
ground in the rear of the White House. They 
were received with enthusiasm by the people, but 
the miserable uniforms with which they had been 
supplied, now faded and dilapidated, with the 
finishing touch of destruction given to them by 
the perilous journey they had made, gave the 
politicians their first lesson on the worthlessness 
of “ shoddy.” 

The regiment entered the grounds of the White 
House, and as it passed up the avenue, President 
Lincoln appeared in front of his mansion. The 
boys greeted him with a volley of stunning cheers, 
which the President acknowledged by a series of 
bows, which were not half so ungraceful as one 
might have expected after reading the descriptions 
of him contained in the newspapers. 

To Tom Somers the President was a great in¬ 
stitution, and he could scarcely believe that he 
was looking upon the chief magistrate of this 
great nation. He was filled with boyish wonder 
and astonishment; but, after all, he w r as forced 
to admit that the President, though a tall speci¬ 
men of humanity, looked very much like the rest 
of mankind—to borrow a phrase from one of his 
illustrious predecessors. 

Tom was too tired to wonder long at the gran¬ 
deur of the Capitol, and the simple magnificence 


95 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

of the President. The tents were pitched, and 
the weary men were allowed a season of rest. In 
a couple of days, however, our soldier boy was 
“ as good a,s new.” 

“ Come, Tom, it is about time for you too see 
something of the city,” said Ben Lethbridge, one 
afternoon, after the regiment had become fairly 
settled in its new quarters. 

“ I should like to take a tramp. There are lots 
of congressmen here, and I should like to know 
what they look like,” replied Tom. “ I haven’t 
been outside the lines since we came here.” 

“ I have; and I’m going again! Fred and I 
mean to have a good time to-day. Will you go? ” 

“ Have you got a pass? ” 

“ A pass! What a stupid ! What do you want 
of a pass? You can’t get one. They won’t give 
any.” 

“ Then we can’t go, of course.” 

“Bah! What a great calf you are! Don’t 
you want to cry again?” 

“ Ben, you needn’t say cry to me again as long 
as you live,” added Tom. “ If you do, I’ll give 
you something to cry for.” 

Tom did not like the style of remark which the 
other had adopted. He was angry, and, as he 
spoke, his fist involuntarily clinched, and his 
eye looked fierce and determined. 

" “ Come, come, Tom; don’t bristle up so. If 
you are a man, just show that you are, and come 
along with us.” 

“ 1 say, Ben, I want to know who’s a baby or 
a calf, you or I, before we go. I won’t stand any 
more of your lip.” 


96 The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Win you go with us?” demanded Ben, who 
was rather disposed to dodge the issue. 

“ What do you mean by calling me a calf and a 
baby? And this isn’t the first time you’ve done 
it.” 

“ Don’t you know that every man in the regi¬ 
ment has been all over the city, and without any 
pass? When I ask you to go, you begin to talk 
about a pass.” 

“ I choose to ol^ey orders,” replied Tom. 

“ O, you daresn’t go with us.” 

“ Come along!” said Tom, who had not yet 
learned to bear the taunts of his companion. 

“ Get your pail.” 

Tom got his pail, and was immediately joined 
by Fred and Ben, each of whom was also sup¬ 
plied with a pail. There was no water to be 
had within the camp ground, and the men were 
obliged to bring it in pails from the hydrants in 
the street. A pail, therefore, was quite as good 
as a written document to enable them to pass the 
guard. 

The party thus provided had no difficulty in 
passing the sentinels. At a convenient place out¬ 
side the line, they concealed the pails, and, for 
three hours, roamed at will over the city. 

“ Now, Tom, you wanted to see the congress¬ 
men?” said Ben, after they had ‘‘done” the 
city pretty thoroughly. 

“ Yes, but I have seen them at the Capitol.” 

“ But don’t you want to get nearer to them, 
and hear them talk? ” 

“Well, I should like to,” 

“ Come with us, then.” 


97 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

Ben led the way down the avenue, and entered 
a building not far from the railroad station. 
After passing through a long, narrow entry, they 
ascended a flight of stairs, at the head of which 
the conductor gave two raps. The door was 
opened .by a negro, and they were invited to 
enter. At a table in the middle of the room was 
seated a foppish-looking man, who held in his 
hand a silver box. As he turned it, Tom saw 
that it contained a pack of cards. 

“ Where are your congressmen ? ” asked the 
soldier boy, whose eyes had been opened by the 
appearance of the cards. 

“ They will be here pretty soon,” replied Ben. 

The foppish man looked at his watch, and de¬ 
clared they would come in the course of five or 
ten minutes. He then took the cards out of the 
box, and, after shuffling them, returned them 
to their place. Fred placed a “ quarter ” on the 
table; the gambler put another by its side, and 
drew out a card from the silver case. Tom did 
not understand the game; but his companion 
put the quarters in his pocket. 

“ See that, Tom ! ” said he. “ Got any money? ” 

".If I have I shall keep it.” 

“ Put down a quarter, and make another.” 

“No, sir! I’m no gambler!” replied Tom, 
with emphasis. 

“ Quite respectable, I assure you,” added the 
blackleg at the table. 

“ Pm going,” said Tom, decidedly. 

“ Baby! ” sneered Ben. “ Afraid to phay! n 

“I won’t play! I’m going.” 

The negro opened the door, and he passed out 


98 The Soldier Boy, or 

Contrary to bis expectation, he was followed by 
Fred and Ben. 

“ Baby is afraid of cards! ” sneered Ben, as 
they passed through the long entry. 

“ Afraid of cards, but not afraid of you,” re- 
plied Tom, as he planted a heavy blow between 
the eyes of his companion. 

Ben Lethbridge returned the blow, and it cost 
him another, and there was a prospect of quite 
a lively skirmish in the entry; but Fred Pember¬ 
ton interposed his good offices, and effected a 
compromise, which, like most of the political 
compromises, was only the postponement of the 
conflict. 

“ I told you not to call me ‘ baby/ again,” said 
Tom, as they passed out of the building. “ I 
will convince you before I am done that I'm not 
a baby.” 

Ben found it convenient to offer no reply to 
this plain statement of facts, and the three sol¬ 
diers made their wav back to the camp, and, 
having obtained their pails and filled them with 
water at the hydrants, they passed the guard with¬ 
out a question. 


CHAPTER XII. 

ON TO RICHMOND. 

It so happened that Ben Lethbridge, probably 
satisfied that it was not the fist of a baby which 
had partially blackened both of his eyes, and 
produced a heavy pain under his left ear, did 



99 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

not demand the satisfaction which was needed 
to heal his wounded honor. The matter was 
duly discussed in the tent of Tom’s mess; but 
our soldier boy, while he professed to be entirely 
satisfied, was willing to meet Ben at such time 
and place as he desired, and finish up the affair. 

The other party was magnanimous, and de¬ 
clared that he too was satisfied; and old Hapgood 
thought they had better proceed no further with 
the affair, for both of them might be arrested 
for disorderly conduct. 

“ I am satisfied, Ben; but if you ever call me 
a baby or a calf again, it will all have to be 
settled over again, said Tom, as he laid aside 
his musket, which he had been cleaning during 
the conversation. 

“ I don’t want to quarrel with you, Tom,” 
replied Ben, “ but I wish you would be a little 
more like the rest of the fellows.” 

“ What do you mean by that? I am like the 
rest of the fellows.” 

“ You wouldn’t play cards.” 

“Yes, I will play cards, but I won’t gamble; 
and there isn’t many fellows in the company 
that will.” 

“ That’s so,” added Hapgood. “ I know all 
about that business. When I went to Mexico, 
I lost my money as fast as I got it, playing 
cards. Don’t gamble, boys.” 

“ I won’t, for one,” said Tom, with emphasis. 

“ Are you going to set up for a soldier-saint, 
too? ” sneered Ben, turning to the old man. 

“ I’m no saint, but I’ve larned better than to 
gamble.” 


too The Soldier Boy, or 

“ I think you’d better stop drinking too,” added 
Ben. 

Come, Ben, you are meaner than dirt,” said 
Tom, indignantly. 

Old Hapgood was a confirmed toper. The peo¬ 
ple in Pinchbrook said he was a good man, but, 
they used to add, with a shrug of the shoulders, 
“pity he drinks.” It was a sad pity, but he 
seemed to have no power over his appetite. The 
allusion of Ben to his besetting sin was cruel 
and mortifying, for the old man had certainly 
tried to reform, and since the regiment left Bos¬ 
ton, he had not tasted the intoxicating cup. He 
had declared before the mess that he had stopped 
drinking; so his resolution was known to all 
his companions, though none of them had much 
confidence in his ability to carry it out. 

“ I didn’t speak to you, Tom Somers,” said 
Ben, sharply. 

“ You said a mean thing in my presence.” 

“ By and by we shall be having a prayer meet¬ 
ing in our tent every night.” 

“If you are invited I hope you will come,” 
added Tom, “ for if prayers will do any body any 
good, they won’t hurt you.” 

“If you will take care of yourself, and let 
me alone, it’s all I ask of you.” 

“ I’m agreed.” 

This was about the last of the skirmishing be¬ 
tween Tom and Ben. The latter was a little 
disposed to be a bully; and from the time the com¬ 
pany left Pinchbrook, he had been in the habit 
of calling Tom a baby, and other opprobrious 
terms, till the subject of his sneers could endure 


101 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

them no longer. Tom had come to the conclusion 
that he could obtain respectful treatment only 
by the course he had adopted. Perhaps, if he had 
possessed the requisite patience, he might have 
attained the same result by a less repulsive and 
more noble policy. 

The regiment remained in Washington about 
a fortnight. The capital was no longer consid¬ 
ered to be in danger. A large body of troops 
had been massed in and around tXe city, and 
the rebels’ boast that they would soon capture 
Washington was no longer heeded. Fear and anx¬ 
iety had given place to hope and expectation. 
“ On to Richmond! ” was the cry sounded by the 
newspapers, and repeated by the people. The 
army of newlv-fledged soldiers was burning with 
eagerness to be led against the rebels. “ On to 
Richmond! ” shouted citizens and soldiers, states¬ 
men and politicians. Some cursed and some de¬ 
precated the cautious slowness of the old general 
who had never been defeated. 

“ On to Richmond! ” cried the boys in Tom’s 
regiment, and none more earnestly than he. 

“ Don’t hurry old Scott. He knows what he 
is about. I know something about this business, 
for I’ve seen old Scott where the bullets flew 
thicker’n snow flakes at Christmas,” was the 
oft-repeated reply of Hapgood, the veteran of 
Company K. 

The movement which had been so long desired 
and expected was made at last, and the regiment 
struck its tents, and proceeded over Long Bridge 
into Virginia. The first camp was at Shuter’a 
Hill, near Alexandria. 


102 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Now we are in for it,” said Tom Somers, 
wheat the mess gathered in their tent after the 
camp was formed. “ I hope we shall not remain 
here long/' 

“ Don’t be in a hurry, my o^a^e boy,” said old 
Hapgood. “ We may stop here a moyki'z'' 

“ I hope not.” 

“ Don’t hope anything about it, Tom. Take 
things as they come.” 

But the impatience of the soldier boy was soon 
relieved; for at daylight on the morning of the 
16th of July, the regiment was routed out, the 
tents were struck, and at nine o’clock they took 
up the line of march to the southward. It was 
“ on to Richmond,” in earnest, now, and merrily 
marched the men, who little knew what trials 
and sufferings, what scenes of blood and death, 
lay in their path. 

The little colonel’s command had been put in 
Franklin’s brigade, which formed a part of Heint- 
zelman’s division; but little did Tom or his fellow- 
soldiers know of anything but their own regiment. 
The “ sacred soil ” of Virginia seemed to be cov¬ 
ered with Federal soldiers, and whichever way 
he turned, columns of troops might be seen, all 
obedient to the one grand impulse of the loyal 
nation—“ On to Richmond.” 

The great wagons, gun carriages, and caissons 
rolling slowly along, the rattling drums, with here 
and there the inspiring strains of a band, the 
general officers, with their staffs, were full of 
interest and excitement to the soldier boy; and 
though the business before him was stern and 
terrible, yet it seemed like some great pageant, 


Tom Somers in the Army. 103 

moving grandly along to celebrate, rather than 
win, a glorious triumph. 

The novelty of the movement, however, soon 
wore away, and it required only a few hours to 
convince the inexperienced soldiers in our regi¬ 
ment that it was no idle pageant in which they 
were engaged. The short intervals of rest which 
were occasionally allowed were moments to be 
appreciated. All day long they toiled upon their 
weary way, praying for the night to come, with 
its coverted hours of repose. The night did come, 
but it brought no rest to the weary and footsore 
soldiers. 

Tom was terribly fatigued. His knapsack, 
which had been light upon his buoyant frame in 
the morning, now seemed to weigh two hundred 
pounds, while his musket had grown propor¬ 
tionally heavy. Hour after hour, in the dark¬ 
ness of that gloomy night, he trudged on, keep¬ 
ing his place in the ranks with a resolution which 
neither the long hours nor the weary miles could 
break down. 

“ I can’t stand this much longer,” whined Ben 
Lethbridge. “ I shall drop pretty soon, and die 
by the roadside.” 

“ No, you won’t,” added Hapgood. “ Stick to 
it a little while longer; never say die.” 

“ I can’t stand it.” 

“ Yes, you can. Only think you can, and yon 
can,” added the veteran. 

“What do they think we are made of? We 
can’t march all day and all night. I wish I 
was at home.” 

“ I wish I hadn’t come,” said Fred Pemberton. 


104 The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Cheer up! cheer up, boys. Stick to it a little 
longer,” said the veteran. 

It was three o’clock the next morning before 
they were permitted to halt, when the boys rolled 
themselves up in their blankets, and dropped upon 
the ground. It was positive enjoyment to Tom, 
and he felt happy; for rest was happiness when 
the body was all worn out. A thought .of the 
cottage and of his mother crossed his mind, and 
Le dropped asleep to dream of the joys of home. 

Short and sweet was that blessed time of rest; 
for at four o’clock, after only one brief hour of 
repose, the regiment was turned out again, and 
resumed its weary march to the southward. But 
that short interval of rest was a fountain of 
strength to Tom, and without a murmur he took 
his place by the side of his grumbling compan¬ 
ions. Ben and Fred were disgusted with the 
army, and wanted to go back; but that was im¬ 
possible. 

Again, for weary hours, they toiled upon the 
march. They passed Fairfax, and encamped near 
the railroad station, where a full night’s rest was 
allowed them. By the advice of Hapgood, Tom 
went to a brook, and washed his aching feet in 
cold water. The veteran campaigner gave him 
other useful hints, which were of great service 
to him. That night he had as good reason to bless 
the memory of the man who invented sleep as ever 
Sancho Fanza had, and every hour was fully 
improved. 

At six o’clock, the next morning, the regiment 
marched again. Tom’s legs were stiff, but he felt 
so much better than on the preceding day, that 




Tom Somers in the Army. 105 

he began to think that he could stand any thing. 
In the early part of the afternoon his ears were 
saluted by a new sound—one which enabled him 
more fully than before to realize the nature of 
the mission upon which he had been sent. It was 
the roar of cannon. On that day was fought the 
battle of Blackburn’s Ford; and when the regi¬ 
ment reached its halting-place at Centreville, the 
story of the fight was told by enthusiastic lips. 
Massachusetts men had stood firm and resolute 
before the artillery and musketry of the rebels, 
and every man who heard the story was proud 
that he hailed from the Old Bay State, and panted 
for the time when he might show himself worthy 
of his origin, and true to the traditions of the 
past. 

The regiment lay in camp the two following 
days, and the men had an opportunity to recover 
in some measure from the fatigues of their first 
severe march. Visions of glory and victory were 
beginning to dawn upon them. They had listened 
to the cannon of the enemy, and they knew that 
the rebels were not many miles distant in front 
of them. A few days, perhaps a few hours, would 
elapse before the terrible conflict would com¬ 
mence. Some of those manly forms must soon 
sleep in the soldier’s grave; some of those beating 
hearts must soon cease to beat forever; but still 
the brave and the true longed for the hour that 
would enable them to “ strike home ” for the 
nation’s salvation. 


io6 


The Soldier Boy, or 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE BATTLE OF BULL* RUN. 

Tumble out! Tumble out! ” shouted the ser¬ 
geant, who was in the mess with the soldiers 
we have introduced. “ Reveille! Don’t you hear 
it?” 

“ But it isn’t morning,” growled Ben Leth¬ 
bridge. 

“ I haven’t been asleep more than an hour or 
two,” snarled Fred Pemberton. 

“ Shut up your heads, and turn out! ” said the 
sergeant. 

It was the morning of the eventful twenty-first 
of July, and it was only two o’clock when the 
regiment was roused from its slumbers; but 
there was no great hardship in this fact, for most 
of the men had been sleeping the greater portion 
of the time during the preceding two days. Tom 
Somers was ready to take his place in the line 
in a few moments. 

“ Come, fellows, hurry up,” said he to his tardy 
companions. “ The time has come, and, I teil 
you, there’ll be music before many hours.” 

“Where are we going, Tom? Have yau any 
idea?” asked Fred. 

“ Going down to Manassas Junction, I sup¬ 
pose. That’s where the rebels are.” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 107 

“ Do you suppose we shall get into a fight ?” 
asked Ben. 

“I don’t know; I hope so.” 

“ So do I,” returned Ben, faintly; “ but I don’t 
like to be broke of my rest in this way.” 

Tom, full of excited anticipations in regard 
to the events of the day, laughed heartily at this 
reply, and left the tent. The regiment was formed 
in line, but there were two vacancies in the sec¬ 
tion to which he belonged. Fred and Ben had 
answered to their names at roll call. On some 
pretence they had asked permission to leave the 
line for a few moments, and that was the last 
that had been seen of them. 

“ Where do you suppose they are? ” said Tom to 
Hapgood. 

“ I don’t know. I hain’t got much confidence 
in Ben’s pluck, and I shouldn’t wonder if he 
had run away.” 

“ But that is desertion.” 

“ That’s just what you may call it; and I’ve 
seen men shot for it.” 

The regiment remained in line several hours 
before the order came to move. At daylight, 
while the men were still standing in the road, 
four soldiers, attended by a staff officer, conducted 
the two missing men of Company K into the pres¬ 
ence of the regiment. 

“ These men say they belong to your regiment,” 
said the officer, saluting the little colonel. 

Captain Benson immediately claimed them, and 
Fred and Ben were ordered into the ranks. 

“ Cowards—are you ? ” said the captain. “ You 
shall take your places in the ranks, and at the 
right time we will settle this case.” 


io8 


The Soldier Boy, or 


“ I enlisted without my father’s consent, and 
you can’t hold me if I don’t choose to otay,” re¬ 
plied Fred Pemberton. 

“ Next time you must ask your father before 
you come. It is too late to repent now.” 

“ I’m going home.” 

“ No, you’re not. Sergeant, if either of those 
men attempt to leave the ranks again, shoot 
them!” said the captain. 

Fred and Ben took their places in the ranks 
amid the laughter and jeers of the company. 

“ Who’s the baby now?” said Bob Dornton. 

“You have disgraced the company,” added old 
Hapgood. “ I didn’t think you would run away 
before the battle commenced.” 

“ I shall keep both eyes on you, my boys, and 
if you skulk again, I’ll obey orders—by the Lord 
Harry, I will! ” said the sergeant, as he glanced 
at the lock of his musket. “ Company K isn’t 
going to be laughed at for your cowardice.” 

At six o’clock the order came for the brigade 
to march. It now consisted of only three regi¬ 
ments, for the time of one, composed of three 
months’ men, had expired while at Centreville; 
and though requested and importuned to remain 
a few days longer, they basely withdrew, even 
while they were on the very verge of the battle¬ 
field. This regiment left, and carried with it the 
scorn and contempt of the loyal and true men, 
who were as ready to fight the battles of their 
country on one day as on another. 

The men knew they were giong to battle now, 
for the enemy was only a few miles distant. 
The soldier boy’s heart was full of hope. He 


Tom Somers in the Army. 109 

knew not what a battle was; he could form no 
adequate conception of the terrible scene which 
was soon to open upon his view. He prayed 
and trusted that he might be able to do his duty 
with courage and fidelity. To say that he had no 
doubts and fears would be to say that he was not 
human. 

As the brigade toiled slowly along, he tried 
to picture the scene which was before him, and 
thus make himself familiar with its terrors be¬ 
fore he was actually called to confront them. 
He endeavored to imagine the sounds of scream¬ 
ing shells and whistling bullets, that the reality, 
when it came, might not appall him. He thought 
of his companions dropping dead around him, of 
his friends mangled by bayonets and cannon shot; 
he painted the most terrible picture of a battle 
which his imagination could conjure up, hoping 
in this manner to be prepared for the worst. 

The day was hot, and the sun poured down his 
scorching rays upon the devoted soldiers as they 
pursued their weary march. They were fatigued 
by continued exertion, and some of the weary 
ones, when the sun approached the meridian, 
began to hope the great battle would not take 
place on that day. Tom Somers, nearly worn 
out by the tedious march, and half famished 
after the scanty breakfast of hard bread he had 
eaten before daylight, began to feel that he was 
in no condition to face the storm of bullets which 
he had been imagining. 

No orders came to halt at noon, though the 
crowded roads several times secured them a wel¬ 
come rest: but on marched the weary soldiers, 


1 IO 


The Soldier Boy, or 

till the roar of cannon broke upon their ears; 
and as they moved farther on, the rattling volleys 
of musketry were heard, denoting that the battle 
had already commenced. These notes of strife 
were full of inspiration to the loyal and patri¬ 
otic in the columns. A new life was breathed 
into them. They were enthusiastic in the good 
cause, and their souls immediately became so 
big that what had been body before seemed to 
become spirit now. They forgot their empty 
stomachs and their weary limbs. The music of 
battle, wild and terrible as it was to these un¬ 
tutored soldiers, charmed away the weariness of 
the body, and, to the quickstep of thundering can¬ 
non and crashing musketry, they pressed on with 
elastic tread to the horrors before them. 

Tom felt that he had suddenly and miracu¬ 
lously been made over anew. He could not ex¬ 
plain the reason, but his legs had ceased to ache, 
his feet to be sore, and his musket and his knap¬ 
sack were deprived of their superfluous weight. 

“ God be with me in this battle! ” he exclaimed 
to himself a dozen times. “ God give me strength 
and courage!” 

Animated by his trust in Him who will always 
sustain those who confide in him, the soldier boy 
pressed on, determined not to disgrace the name 
he bore. The terrible sounds became more and 
more distinct as the regiment advanced, and in 
about two hours after the battle had opened, the 
brigade arrived at the field of operations. One 
regiment was immediately detached and sent off 
in one direction, while the other two were ordered 
to support a battery on a hill, from which it was 


Tom Somers in the Army. in 

belching forth a furious storm of shells upon the 
rebels. 

The little colonel’s sword gleamed in the air, 
as he gave the order to march on the double-quick 
to the position assigned to him. 

“ Now, Tom, steady, and think of nothing but 
God and your country,” said old Hapgood, as 
the regiment commenced its rapid march. “ I 
know something about this business, and I can 
tell you we shall have hot work before we get 
through with it.” 

“ Where are the rebels? I don’t see any,” asked 
Tom. who found that his ideas of the manner in 
which a battle is fought were very much at 
fault. 

“ You will see them very soon. They are in 
their breastworks. There! Look down there!” 
exclaimed the veteran as the regiment reached 
a spot which commanded a full view of the battle. 

Tom looked upon the fearful scene. The roar 
of the artillery and the crash of the small arms 
were absolutely stunning. He saw men fall, and 
lie motionless on the ground, where they were 
trampled upon by the horses, and crushed beneath 
the wheels of cannon and caisson. But the cry 
was, that the army of the Union had won the 
field, and it inspired him with new zeal and new 
courage. 

Scarcely had the remnant of the brigade reached 
the right of the battery, before they were ordered 
to charge down the valley, by Colonel Franklin, 
the acting brigadier. They were executing the 
command with a dash and vigor that would have 
been creditable to veterans, when they were 


I 12 


The Soldier Boy, or 

ordered to cross the ravine, and support the Eire 
Zouaves. The movement was made, and Tom soon 
found himself in the thickest of the fight. Shot 
and shell were flying in every direction, and the 
bullets hissed like hailstones around him. 

In spite of all his preparations for this awful 
scene, his heart rose up into his.throat. His 
eyes were blinded by the volumes of rolling smoke, 
and his mind confused by the rapid succession 
of incidents that were transpiring around him. 
The pictures he had painted were sunlight and 
golden compared with the dread reality. Dead 
and dying men strewed the ground in every di¬ 
rection. Wounded horses were careering on a 
mad course of destruction, trampling the wounded 
and the dead beneath their feet. The hoarse 
shouts of the officers were heard above the roar of 
battle. The scene mocked all the attempts which 
the soldier boy had made to imagine its horrors. 

In front of the regiment were the famous 
Fire Zouaves, no longer guided and' controlled 
by the master genius of Ellsworth. They fought 
like tigers, furiously, madly; but all discipline 
had ceased among them, and they rushed wildly 
to the right and the left, totally heedless of their 
officers. They fought like demons, and as Tom 
saw them shoot down, hew down, or bayonet the 
hapless rebels who came within their reach, it 
seemed to him as though they had lost their hu¬ 
manity, and been transformed into fiends. 

As soon as the regiment reached its position, 
the order was given to fire. Tom found this a 
happy relief; and when he had discharged his 
musket a few times, all thoughts of the horrors 


I! 3 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

of the scene forsook him. He no longer saw the 
dead and the dying; he no longer heard the ap¬ 
palling roar of battle. He had become a part 
of the scene, instead of an idle spectator. He was 
sending the bolt of death into the midst of the 
enemies of his country. 

“ Bravo! Good boy, Tom,” said old Hapgood. 
who seemed to be as much at ease as when he had 
counselled patience and resignation in the quiet 
jf the tent. “ Don’t fire too high, Tom.” 

“ I’ve got the idea,” replied the soldier boy. 
“ I begin to feel quite at home.” 

“ O, you’ll do; and I knew you would from the 
first.” 

The shouts of victory which had sounded over 
the field were full of inspiration to the men; but 
at the moment when the laurels seemed to be 
resting securely upon our banners, the rebel line 
moved forward with irresistible fury. Tom, at 
one instant, as he cast his eye along the line, 
found himself flanked on either side by his com¬ 
rades; at the next there was a wild, indescribable 
tramp and roar, and he found himself alone. The 
regiment was scattered in every direction, and 
he did not see a single man whom he knew. There 
was a moving mass of Federal soldiers all around 
him. The Zouaves had been forced back, and 
the cry of victory had given place to the ominous 
sounds which betokened a defeat, if not a rout. 

The rebels had been reenforced, and had hurled 
their fresh legions upon our exhausted troops, 
who could no longer roll back the masses that 
crowded upon them. The day was lost. 

Tom, bewildered by this sudden and disastrous 


The Soldier Boy, or 


1T 4 

result, moved back with the crowds around him. 
Men had ceased to be brave and firm; they were 
fleeing in mortal terror before the victorious bat¬ 
talions that surged against them. 

“ It’s all up with us, my lad,” said a panting 
Zouave. “ Run for your life. Come along with 
me.” 

Tom followed the Zouave towards the woods, 
the storm of bullets still raining destruction 
around them. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

AFTER THE BATTLE. 

Tom Somers floated with the tide of humanity 
that was setting away from the scene of disaster 
and defeat. The panic that prevailed was even 
more fearful than the battle, for wounded and 
dying men were mercilessly trodden down by the 
feet of the horses, and run over by the wheels of 
the cannon and the baggage wagons. Though 
the battle was ended, the rebels still poured 
storms of shot and shell into the retreating, panic- 
stricken host. 

Tom did not know where to go, for there were 
panic and death on all sides of him. The soldiers 
were flying in every direction, some of them into 
the very arms of their remorseless enemies. But 
the woods seemed to promise the most secure re¬ 
treat from the fury of the Black Horse Cavalry, 
which was now sweeping over the battle-field. 
The Zouave ran in this direction, and our soldier 



Tom Somers in the Army, 115 

boj followed him. Now that the excitement of 
the conflict was over, the enthusiasm which had 
buoyed him up began to subside. The day was 
lost; all hopes of glory had fled; and a total de¬ 
feat and rout were not calculated to add much 
strength to his over-tasked limbs. 

He was nearly used up, and it was hard work 
to run—very hard work; and nothing but the 
instinct of self-preservation enabled him to keep 
the tall and wiry form of the Zouave in sight. 
They reached the ravine, where the water was 
about three feet deep. The shot, and shell, and 
bullets still fell in showers around them, and 
occasionally one of the luckless fugitives was 
struck down. They crossed the stream, and con¬ 
tinued on their flight. An officer on horseback 
dashed by them, and bade them run with all their 
might, or they would be taken. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, get me some water! ” said 
a rebel, who was wounded in the leg, to a Zouave,, 
who passed near him. 

“ You are a rebel, but I will do that for you,’* 
replied the Zouave; and he gave him a canteen 
filled with water. 

The rebel drank a long, deep draught, and then 
levelled his musket at the head of his Samaritan 
enemy and fired. This transaction had occupied 
but a moment, and Tom saw the whole. His 
blood froze with horror at the unparalleled atroc¬ 
ity of the act. The Zouave, whom Tom had fol¬ 
lowed, uttered a terrible oath, and snatching the 
musket from the hands of the soldier boy, he 
rushed upon the soulless miscreant, and trans¬ 
fixed him upon the bayonet. Uttering fierce curses 


116 The Soldier Boy, or 

all the time, he plunged the bayonet again and 
again into the vitals of the rebel, till life was ex¬ 
tinct. 

“ Boy, I used to be human once,” said the Zou¬ 
ave, when he had executed this summary justice 
upon the rebel; “ but I’m not human now. I’m 
all devil.” 

“ What a wretch that rebel was! ” exclaimed 
Tom, who seemed to breathe freer now that ret¬ 
ribution had overtaken the viper. 

“ A wretch ! Haven’t you got any bigger word 
than that, boy? He was a fiend! But we mustn’t 
stop here.” 

“ I thought the rebels were human.” 

“ Human? That isn’t the first time to-day I’ve - 
seen such a thing as that done. Come along, my 
boy; come along.” 

Tom followed the Zouave again; but he was too 
much exhausted to run any farther. Even the 
terrors of the Black Horse Cavalry could not in¬ 
spire him with strength and courage to continue 
bis flight at any swifter pace than a walk. 

“ I can go no farther,” said he, at last. 

“Yes, you can; pull up! pull up! You will 
be taken if you stop here.” 

“ I can’t help it. I can go no farther. I am 
used up.” 

“ Pull up, pull up, my boy! ” 

“ I can’t.” 

“ But I don’t want to leave you here. They’ll 
murder you—cut your throat, like a dog.” 

“ I will hide myself in the bushes till I get a 
little more strength.” 

“ Try it a little longer. l r ou are too good a 


Tom Somers in the Army. 117 

fellow to be butchered like a calf,” added the 
generous Zouave. 

But it was no use to plead with him, for ex¬ 
hausted nature refused to support him, and he 
dropped upon the ground like a log 

“ Poor fellow! I would carry you in my arms 
if I could.” 

“ Save yourself if you can,” replied Tom, 
faintly. 

The kind-hearted fireman was sorry to leave 
him, but he knew that one who wore his uniform 
could expect no mercy from the rebels. They 
had been too terrible upon the battle-field to re¬ 
ceive any consideration from those whom they 
had so severely punished. He was, therefore, un¬ 
willing to trust himself to the tender mercies of 
the cavalry, who were sweeping the fields to pick 
up prisoners; and after asking Tom’s name and 
regiment, he reluctantly left him. 

Tom had eaten nothing since daylight in the 
morning, which, added to the long march, and 
the intense excitement of his first battle-field, 
had apparently reduced him to the last extrem¬ 
ity. Then, for the first time, he realized what 
it was to be, a soldier. Then he thought of his: 
happy home—of his deyoted mother. What must 
she not suffer when the telegraph should flask 
over the wires the intelligence of the terrible dis¬ 
aster which had overtaken the Union army! It 
would be many days, if not weeks or months,, 
before she could know whether he was dead or 
alive. What anguish must she not endure! 

He had but a moment for thoughts like these 
before he heard the sweep of the rebel cavalry. 


I 20 


The Soldier Boy, or 

which had ceased to suffer, and he felt thankful 
that he had been able to mitigate even a single 
pang of the dying rebel. Bat not long could he 
gaze, awe-struck, at the ghastly spectacle before 
him, for he had a life to save. The w r ords of the 
sufferer—his last words—offering him the con¬ 
tents of his haversack recurred to him; but Tom’s 
sensibilities recoiled at the thought of eating 
bread taken from the body of a dead man, and 
he turned away. 

“Why shouldn’t I take it?” said he to him¬ 
self. “ It may save my life. With rest and food, 
I may escape. Pooh! I’ll not be a fool! ” 

Bending over the dead man, lie resolutely cut 
the haversack from his body, and then returned 
to the log whose friendly shelter had screened 
him from the eyes of the rebel horsemen. Seat¬ 
ing himself upon the ground, he commenced ex¬ 
ploring the haversack. It contained two “ ash- 
cakes,” a slice of bacon, and a small bottle. Tom’s 
eyes glowed with delight as he gazed upon this 
rich feast, and, without waiting to say grace or 
consider the circumstances under which he ob¬ 
tained the materials for his feast, he began to 
eat. Ash-cake was a new institution to him. It 
was an Indian cake baked in the ashes, probably 
at the camp-fires of the rebels at Manassas. It 
tasted very much like his mother’s johnny-cake, 
only he missed the fresh butter with which he 
had been wont to cover the article at home. 

The soldier boy ate the bacon, and ate both of 
the cakes, though each of the latter was about the 
size of a saucer. It was a large meal, even for 
a growing boy; but every mouthful seemed to put 


121 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

a new sinew into his frame. While he was eat¬ 
ing, he drew the cork from the bottle. It con¬ 
tained whiskey. Tom had heard that there was 
virtue in whiskey; that it was invigorating to 
a tired man, and he was tempted, under these 
extremely trying circumstances, to experiment 
upon the beverage. He would certainly have been 
excusable if he had done so; but our hero had a 
kind of horror of the article, which would not let 
him even taste it. He was afraid that he should 
acquire a habit which would go with him through 
life, and make him what Hapgood and others 
whom he knew were—a torment to themselves, 
and a nuisance to their fellow-beings. Putting 
the cork in the bottle, he threw it upon the 
ground. 

With his renewed strength came renewed hope; 
but he did not deem it prudent to wander about 
the woods at present: therefore he threw himself 
on the ground under the protecting log to obtain 
the repose he so much needed. 

He thought of home, and wondered whether he 
should ever see the cottage of his parents again; 
and while he was thinking, overcome by the ex¬ 
citement and fatigue of the day, he dropped 
asleep. It was strange that he could do so, con¬ 
sciously environed by so many perils; but he had 
in a measure become callous to danger, and he 
slept long and deep.. 

When he awoke, it was dark and silent around 
him. The roar of battle had ceased, and the calm 
of death seemed to have settled upon the scene 
of strife. Tom’s bones still ached; but he was 
wonderfully refreshed by the nap he had taken. 


I 20 


The Soldier Boy, or 

which had ceased to suffer, and he felt thankful 
that he had been able to mitigate even a single 
pang of the dying rebel. Bat not long could he 
gaze, awe-struck, at the ghastly spectacle before 
him, for he had a life to save. The words of the 
sufferer—his last words—offering him the con¬ 
tents of his haversack recurred to him; but Tom’s 
sensibilities recoiled at the thought of eating 
Bread taken from the body of a dead man, and 
he turned away. 

“Why shouldn’t I take it?” said he to him¬ 
self. “It may save my life. With rest and food, 
I may escape. Pooh ! I’ll not be a fool! ” 

Bending over the dead man, he resolutely cut 
the haversack from his body, and then returned 
to the log whose friendly shelter had screened 
him from the eyes of the rebel horsemen. Seat¬ 
ing himself upon the ground, he commenced ex¬ 
ploring the haversack. It contained two “ash- 
cakes,” a slice of bacon, and a small bottle. Tom’s 
eyes glowed with delight as he gazed upon this 
rich feast, and, without waiting to say grace or 
consider the circumstances under which he ob¬ 
tained the materials for his feast, he began to 
eat. Ash-cake was a new institution to him. It 
was an Indian cake baked in the ashes, probably 
at the camp-fires of the rebels at Manassas. It 
tasted very much like his mother’s johnny-cake, 
only he missed the fresh butter with which he 
had been wont to cover the article at home. 

The soldier boy ate the bacon, and ate both of 
the cakes, though each of the latter was about the 
size of a saucer. It was a large meal, even for 
a growing boy; but every mouthful seemed to put 


121 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

a new sinew into his frame. While he was eat¬ 
ing, he drew the cork from the bottle. It con¬ 
tained whiskey. Tom had heard that there was 
virtue in whiskey; that it was invigorating to 
a tired man, and he was tempted, under these 
extremely trying circumstances, to experiment 
upon the beverage. He would certainly have been 
excusable if he had done so; but our hero had a 
kind of horror of the article, which would not let 
him even taste it. He was afraid that he should 
acquire a habit which would go with him through 
life, and make him what Hapgood and others 
whom he knew were—a torment to themselves, 
and a nuisance to their fellow-beings. Putting 
the cork in the bottle, he threw it upon the 
ground. 

With his renewed strength came renewed hope; 
but he did not deem it prudent to wander about 
the woods at present: therefore he threw himself 
on the ground under the protecting log to obtain 
the repose he so much needed. 

He thought of home, and wondered whether he 
should ever see the cottage of his parents again; 
and while he was thinking, overcome by the ex¬ 
citement and fatigue of the day, he dropped 
asleep. It was strange that he could do so, con¬ 
sciously environed by so many perils; but he had 
in a measure become callous to danger, and he 
slept long and deep.. 

When he awoke, it was dark and silent around 
him. The roar of battle had ceased, and the calm 
of death seemed to have settled upon the scene 
of strife. Tom’s bones still ached; but he was 
wonderfully refreshed by the nap he had taken. 


122 


The Soldier Boy, or 

He had no idea of the time, and could not tell 
whether he had slept one hour or six. He was 
strong enough to walk now, and the first con¬ 
sideration was to escape from the vicinity of the 
rebel camps; but he had no conception of where 
he was, or what direction would lead him to the 
Federal lines. 

A kind Providence had watched over him thus 
far; had spared his life in the fury of battle; 
had fed him in the wilderness, like Elijah of old; 
and restored his wasted strength. He could only 
trust to Providence for guidance, and, using his 
best judgment in choosing the direction, he en¬ 
tered upon the difficult task of finding his way out 
of the woods. He had walked an hour or more, 
when, suddenly, three men sprung up in the path 
before him. 

“Halt! Who comes there?” demanded one of 
them. 

“ Friend! ” replied Tom; though he had a great 
many doubts in regard to the truth of his as¬ 
sertion. 

“ Advance, friend, and give the countersign! ” 

But the soldier boy had no countersign to give. 
He had fallen upon a rebel picket post, and was 
made a prisoner. 


CHAPTER XV. 

TOM A PRISONER. 

Tom could not exactly understand how he hap¬ 
pened to be made a prisoner. He had certainly 



123 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

moved with extreme caution, and he wondered 
that he had not received some intimation of the 
presence of the enemy before it was too late to 
retreat. But, as we have before hinted, Tom was 
a philosopher; and he did not despair even under 
the present reverse of circumstances, though he 
was greatly disconcerted. 

“ Who are you ? ” demanded one of the rebel 
soldiers, when they had duly possessed his body, 
which, however, was not a very chivalrous ad¬ 
venture, for the prisoner was unarmed, his gun 
having been thrown away bv the friendly Zouave, 
after he had so terribly avenged his murdered 
companion. 

“ I’m a soldier,” replied Tom, greatly perplexed 
by the trials of his difficult situation. 

As yet he did not know whether he had fallen 
into the hands of friend or foe, for the night was 
cloudy and dark, and he could not see what uni¬ 
form the pickets wore. 

“ What do you belong to?” demanded the 
spokesman of the picket trio. 

“ I belong to the army,” answered Tom, with 
admirable simplicity. 

Our soldier boy, as the reader already knows, 
had been well “ brought up.” He had been taught 
to tell the truth at all times; and he did so on 
the present occasion, very much to the confusion, 
no doubt, of the rebel soldiers, who had not been 
brought up under the droppings of the sanctuary 
in a New England village. 

“ B’long to the army—do you?” repeated 
Secesh, who must have thought Tom a very candid 
person. 


I 2 a The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Yes, sir, I belong to the army,” added the 
prisoner. 

“ I s'pose you won’t mind telling us what army 
you belong to, ’cause it mought make a difference 
in our calculations,” added the spokesman. 

Tom did not know but that it might make 
some difference in his calculations, and for this 
reason he was exceedingly unwilling to commit 
himself before he ascertained upon which side 
his questioners belonged. 

“ Can you tell me where I am?” asked Tom, 
resolved to use a little strategy in obtaining the 
desired information. 

“ May be I can,” replied the picket. 

“Will you do so?” 

“ Sartin, stranger—you are in the woods,” ad¬ 
ded Seeesh; whereat his companions indulged 
in a wholesome chuckle, which assured Tom that 
they were human, and his hopes rose accordingly. 

Thank you,” replied Tom, with infinite good 
nature. 

“You say you belong to the army, and I say 
you are in the woods,” said the soldier, repeating 
the double postulate, so that the essence of the 
joke should by no possiblity fail to penetrate 
the cerebellum of his auditor. 

Tom was perfectly willing to acknowledge that 
he was in the woods, both actually and meta¬ 
phorically, and he was very much disturbed to 
know how he should get out of the woods—a 
problem which has puzzled wiser heads than his, 
even in less perplexing emergencies. He was fear¬ 
ful that, if he declared himself to be a Union 
soldier, he should share the f::te of others whom 


Tom Somers in the Army. 123 

he had seen coolly bayoneted on that eventful 
day. 

“ Now, stranger, s’pose you tell me what army 
you b’long to; then I can tell you where you are,” 
continued the soldier. 

“ What do you belong to? ” asked Tom, though 
he did not put the question very confidently. 

“ I belong to the army;” and the two other 
pickets honored the reply with another chuckle. 
“You can’t fool old Alabammy.” 

There was no further need of fooling “ Old 
Alabammy,” for the worthy old gentleman, sym¬ 
bolically represented by the rebel soldier, had 
kindly done it himself; and Tom then realized 
that he was in the hands of the enemy. It is true, 
the balance of the picket trio laughed heartily at 
the unfortunate slip of the tongue made by 
their companion; but Tom was in no condition 
to relish the joke, or he might perhaps have in 
sinuated himself into the good graces of the jolly 
Secesh by repeating Pat’s mysterious problem—* 
“ Tell me how many cheeses there are in the bag, 
and I’ll give ye the whole five;” for, though this 
is an old joke in the civilized parts of the world, 
it is not at all probable that it had been perpe¬ 
trated in the benighted regions of Secessia. 

The announcement of the fact that he was in 
the hands of the foe, as we have before intimated, 
left Tom in no condition to give or take a joke. 
His heart was suddenly deprived of some portion 
of its ordinary gravity, and rose up to the vicinity 
of his throat. He drew sundry deep and long 
breaths, indicative of his alarm; for though Tom 
was a brave boy,—as these pages have already 


126 


The Soldier Boy, or 


demonstrated,—he had a terrible idea of the 
tender mercies of the rebels. His first impulse 
was to break away from his captors, and run the 
risk of being overtaken by a trio of musket balls; 
for death from the quick action of a bullet seemed 
preferable to the fate which his fears conjured 
up if he should be taken by the bloodthirsty 
rebels. But the chances were too decidedly 
against him, and he reluctantly brought his mind 
to the condition of philosophical submission. 

"Well, stranger, which army do you b'long 
to?” said the spokesman of the picket trio, when 
he had fully recovered his self-possession. 

“ I belong to the United States army,” replied 
Tom, desperately. 

“ That means the Yankee army, I s’pose.” 

“Yes, sir; you call it by that name.” 

“ Then you are my prisoner.” 

“ I surrender because I can’t help myself.” 

“ Hev you nary toothpick or bone-cracker in 
your pockets? ” 

“Any what?” replied Tom, whose dictionary 
seemed to be at fault. 

“ Nary pistol, knife, or any thing of that sort? ” 

“ Nothing but my jackknife.” 

“ Any plunder? ” 

“ We piled up our knapsacks and haversacks 
before we went into the fight. Here is my canteen 
half full of water; I gave the other half to one of 
your soldiers, when he was dving of his wounds.” 

“Did ye?” 

“ Now will you be kind enough to tell me where 
I am?” 

“You are inside the lines of our army, about 


Tom Somers in the Army. 127 

three miles below Centreville,” replied one of the 
pickets. 

"What time is it?” 

" Nigh upon nine o’clock, I should say. One 
of you fellers must take this prisoner to head¬ 
quarters,” he continued, speaking to his compan 
ions. 

Tom was very agreeably surprised to find that 
his captors did not propose to hang, shoot, or 
bayonet him; and the Southern Confederacy rose 
a few degrees in his estimation. Certainly the 
men who had taken him were not fiends, and he 
began to hope that his situation as a prisoner 
would not be so terrible as his fancy had pictured 
it. 

One of the men was deputed to conduct him 
to the officer of the guard; and he walked along 
by the side of the soldier through the woods, in 
the' direction from which he had just come. 

" Can you tell me how the battle went at last? ” 
asked Tom, as they pursued their way through the 
forest. 

" We whipped you all to pieces. Your army 
hasn’t done running vet. We shall take Washing¬ 
ton to-morrow, and Jeff Davis will be in the 
White House before the week is out.” 

“ Have you taken many prisoners? ” asked Tom, 
who could not dispute the position of the rebel 
soldier. 

“ About fifty thousand, I b’lieve,” replied 
Secesh, with refreshing confidence. 

Tom indulged in a low whistle, but his com¬ 
panion could not tell whether it was an expres¬ 
sion of regret or incredulity. If they had stood 


128 


The Soldier Boy, or 


on an equality, Tom would probably have sug 
gested that the figures should be interpreted 
“ over the left ”—an idiosyncrasy in language 
which he had imported from Pinchbrook, but 
which may not be wholly unintelligible to our 
young readers. 

From his conductor he obtained some parti¬ 
culars of the battle and its result, which were 
afterwards more fully set forth in General Beau¬ 
regard’s official report, and which would have 
read better on the pages of Sinbad the Sailor 
than in the folios of a military despatch. But the 
Secesh soldier’s “ facts and figures ” were com¬ 
forting to Tom, who still had a stronger interest 
in the condition of the good cause, after the heavy 
blow it had received, than he had in his own in¬ 
dividual welfare. like too heavy a dose of poison, 
the magnitude of the stories refuted and defeated 
them. The soldier boy listened in respectful 
silence, but he was utterly incredulous. It was 
even possible that the Union army had won a 
victory, after all, though he was not very sanguine 
on this point. 

He was ultimately conducted to the head¬ 
quarters of the regiment to which his captors 
belonged, and then turned into a lot with about 
twenty others, who were strongly guarded. Tom 
joined his companions in misery, most of whom, 
worn out by the fatigues of the day, were sleeping 
soundly upon the ground. Only two or three of 
them were awake; but these were strangers to 
him, and he was unable to obtain any informa¬ 
tion from them concerning any of his friends in 
the regiment. 


129 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

It began to rain shortly after Tom joined his 
fellow-prisoners; but there was no shelter for 
them. They had neither blankets nor great 
coats, yet this did not seem to disturb them. Our 
soldier boy threw himself upon the ground, but 
the nap he had taken under the side of the log 
set his eyes wide open for a time. He could only 
think of home, his mother and sisters, and John, 
by this time snugly coiled away in the bed where 
he had been wont to dream of the glories of war. 
He had cast his fears to the winds when he found 
•that his captors did not intend to butcher him, 
and he could not help thinking that his situation 
might have been worse. 

Those with whom he had spoken told him they 
had eaten nothing since morning; and in this 
respect he was far better off than his companions 
were. The only thing that troubled him was the 
thought of the anguish which his mother must 
suffer, when she heard of the battle. When the 
regiment should be gathered together again, he 
would be reported as “ missing ,’ 7 and this would 
be a terrible word to her, for it meant killed, 
wounded, or a prisoner. If he could only assure 
her that he still lived and was uninjured, he 
would have been happy—happy in spite of the 
drenching rain—happy in spite of the prospective 
dungeon, and the hardships to which he might be 
subjected. He felt that he had faithfully perfor¬ 
med his duty. When he began to be drowsy, he 
settled himself in the most comfortable place he 
could find on the ground, and thanked God tint 
he had been spared his life through the perils of 
that awful day, and more fervently that he had 


130 


The Soldier Boy, 


or 


been enabled to do his duty like a good soldier; 
and then, with the Giver of all Good, the Fountain 
of all Mercy, in his heart, he fell asleep. 

He slept several hours, and waked up to find 
himself as thoroughly soaked as though he had 
just come out of the river. There was no help 
for it, and it was no use to grumble. After walk¬ 
ing to and fro for half an hour, he lay down again, 
and, between sleeping and waking, finished the 
night; uncomfortably, it is true, and yet with¬ 
out any positive suffering. There were hundreds, 
if not thousands, who were enduring the agony qf 
fearful wounds through that long night; who 
were lying alone and uncared for where they had 
fallen in the deadly strife; who were dying every 
hour, away from their homes and friends, and 
with no kind hand to minister to their necessities, 
with no sweet voice of a loved one to smooth their 
passage down to the dark, cold grave. 

Tom thought of these, for he had seen them in 
his path, and he felt that he had no cause to com¬ 
plain—that he ought to be cheerful and happy. 
At the dawn of the day he and his fellow-prisoners 
were marched to Sudley Church, where they were 
to be confined until they could be sent to Rich¬ 
mond. Here Tom found a captain belonging to 
his regiment; but neither could give any informa¬ 
tion to the other in regard to their friends,, 

“ I shall not stay here long,” said the captain, 
in a whisper, when they had become better ac¬ 
quainted. “ I intend to leave to-night.” 

“ Can’t I go with you?” asked Tom. 

“ You can go, but we had better not go to¬ 
gether.” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 131 

Tom thought for a while, and determined upon 
an attempt to escape. During the day, he care¬ 
fully examined the premises, and decided upon 
his mode of operations. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A PERPLEXING QUESTION. 

Tom Somers, who had had some experience, in 
a small way, in the kind of business now before 
him, was filled with hope when he had adopted 
his plan. He was a resolute and energetic young 
man, and to resolve upon any thing was almost 
equivalent to doing it. There were a great many 
difficulties in the way of success, it is true; but, 
nothing daunted by these, he determined to per¬ 
severe. The church in which the prisoners were 
confined was carefully guarded on the exterior, 
and the sentinels carried loaded muskets in their 
hands—so that the affair before him was more 
hazardous and trying than that of escaping from 
the attic chamber of Squire Pemberton’s house 
in Pinchbrook. 

If he succeeded in making his way out of the 
church and eluding the guard which surrounded 
it, even then his trials would only have com¬ 
menced; for there were many miles of hostile 
country between him and Washington, whither 
he supposed the Federal army had been driven. 
The captain who intended to escape at the same 
time gave him some information which would be 
of service to him in finding his way to the Po- 



132 


The Soldier Boy, or 

tomac. He charged him particularly to follow 
the railroad, which would conduct him to Alex¬ 
andria, in the vicinity of which he would probably 
find the regiment. 

At dark the prisoners disposed of themselves as 
well as they could for the night. Tom saw the 
captain go through all the forms of preparing for 
a comfortable lodging, and he did the same him¬ 
self. For hours he lay ruminating upon his pur¬ 
pose. When it was midnight, he thought it was 
time for him to commence the enterprise. He 
worked himself along on the floor till lie reached 
the principal entrance. The door was open, as 
it had been all day, to enable the guards to obtain 
an occasional view of the prisoners. 

The sentinels were evidently in no condition 
to discharge their duties with fidelity, for they 
had been marching and fighting for two or three 
days, and were nearly exhausted. Leaning against 
the door, Tom discovered a musket, which the 
careless guard had left there. On the floor in the 
entry lay two rebel soldiers. They had stretched 
themselves across the threshold of the door, so 
that no one could pass in or out of the church 
without stepping over them. 

Tom carefully rose from his recumbent posture, 
and took possession of the musket. Then, with 
the utmost prudence, he stepped over the bodies 
of the sleeping soldiers; but with all his cir¬ 
cumspection, he could not prevent one of his shoes 
from squeaking a little, and it required only a 
particle of noise to rouse the guard. 

“Who goes there?” demanded one of them, 
springing to his feet. 


x 33 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ Is this the way you do your duty?” replied 
Tom, as sternly as though he had been a brigadier 
general. 

“ Who are you?” said the soldier, apparently 
impressed by the words and the tones of him who 
reproved his neglect. 

“ Who am I, you sleepy scum! I’ll let you 
know who I am in about ten minutes,” added 
Tom, as he passed out at the front door of the 
church. 

“ Give me back my gun—won’t you ? ” pleaded 
the confused sentinel. 

“ I’ll give it back to you at the court-martial 
which will sit on your case to-morrow.” 

“ Who goes there?” challenged one of the 
sentinels on the outside. 

“ Who goes there!” added Tom, in a sneering 
tone. “ Have you waked up? Where were you 
five minutes ago, when I passed this post? There 
won’t be a prisoner left here by morning. The 
long roll wouldn’t wake up such a stupid set of 
fellows.” 

^ Stop, sir!” said the astonished sentinel. 

“ You can’t pass this line.” 

“Can’t I, you stupid fool? I have passed it 
while you were asleep.” 

“ I haven’t been asleep.” 

“ Where have you been, then ? ” demanded Tom 
with terrible energy. 

“ Been here, sir.” 

“ I’ll court-martial the whole of you ! ” 

“Stop, sir, or I’ll fire at you!” added the sob 
dier, as Tom moved on. 

“ Fire at me! Fire, if you dare, and I’ll rid 


134 


The Soldier Boy, 


or 


the army of one unfaithful man on the spot ! 99 
said the soldier boy, as he raised the musket to 
his shoulder. 

u Don’t fire, you fool! ” interposed one of the 
men whom Tom had roused from his slumbers in 
the entry. “ Don’t you see he is an officer?” 

“I’ll teach you how to perform your duty!” 
added Tom, as he walked away. 

The soldier, governed by the advice of his com 
panion, offered no further objection to the de¬ 
parture of Tom; and he moved off as coolly as 
though he had just been regularly relieved from 
guard duty. He had walked but a short distance 
before he discovered the camp of a regiment or 
brigade, which, of course, it was necessary for 
him to avoid. Leaving the road, he jumped over 
the fence into a field—his first object being to 
place a respectful distance between himself and 
the enemy. 

The scene through which he had just passed, 
though he had preserved the appearance of cool¬ 
ness and self-possession, had been exceedingly 
trying to his nerves; and when the moment of 
pressing danger had passed, he found 1-is heart up 
in his throat, and his strength almost wasted by 
the excitement. He felt as one feels when he has 
just escaped a peril which menaced him with in¬ 
stant death. Tt was singular that the soldier 
had not fired, but the fact that he did not con 
vinced Tom that there is an amazing power in 
impudence. 

For half an hour, he pursued his way with 
haste and diligence, but without knowing where 
he was going—whether he was moving toward 


*35 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

Richmond or Washington. As the musket which 
he had taken from the church was not only an 
encumbrance, but might betray him, he threw it 
away, though, thinking some means of defence 
might be useful, he retained the bayonet, and 
thrust it in his belt. Thus relieved of his burden, 
lie walked till he came to a road. As there was no 
appearance of an enemy in any direction, he 
followed this road for some time, and finally it 
brought him to the object of his search—the rail¬ 
road. 

But then came up the most perplexing question 
he had yet been called upon to decide. To that 
railroad, as to all others, there were, unfor¬ 
tunately, two ends—one of which lay within the 
Federal lines, and the other within the rebel 
lines. If Tom had been an astronomer, which he 
was not, the night was too cloudy to enable him 
to consult the stars; besides, some railroads are 
so abominably crooked that the heavenly orbs 
would hardly have been safe pilots. He did not 
know which was north, nor which was south, and 
to go the w r rong way would be to jump out of the 
frying pan into the fire. 

Tom sat down by the side of the road, and tried 
to settle the difficult question; but the more he 
thought, the more perplexed he became—which 
shows the folly of attempting to reason when 
there are no premises to reason from. He was. no 
doubt, an* excellent logician; but bricks cannot 
be made without straw. 

"Which way shall I go?” said Tom to himself, 
as he stood up and peered first one way and then 
the other through the gloom of the night. 


136 The Soldier Boy, or 

But he could not see Washington in one direc- 
tion, nor Richmond in the other, and he had not a 
single landmark to guide him in coming to a 
decision. 

“ I’ll toss up! ” exclaimed he, desperately, as he 
took off his cap and threw it up into the air. 
“ Right side up, this way—wrong side, that way* 
and may the fates or the angels turn it in the 
proper way.” 

He stooped down to pick up the cap, and as* 
certain which way it had come down. It came 
down right side up, and Tom immediately started 
off in the direction indicated. Although he had 
no confidence in the arbitrament of the cap, he 
felt relieved to find the question disposed of even 
in this doubtful manner. 

He kept both eyes wide open as he advanced, 
for if he had taken the wrong way a few miles of 
travel would bring him to the main camp of the 
rebels in the vicinity of Manassas Junction. He 
pursued his lonely journey for some time without 
impediment, and without discovering any camp, 
either large or small. He gathered new confidence 
as he proceeded. After he had walked two or 
three hours upon the railroad, he thought it was 
about time for Fairfax station to heave in sight, 
if he had chosen the right way—or for the rebel 
camps to appear if he had chosen the wrong way. 
With the first place he was familiar, as his regi¬ 
ment had encamped a short distance from it. 

He was sorely perplexed by the non-appearance 
of either of these expected points. The country 
began to look wilder and less familiar as he pro¬ 
ceeded. The region before him looked rugged and 


137 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

mountainous, and the dark outlines of several 
lofty peaks touched the sky in front of him. 
But with the feeling that every step he advanced 
placed a wider space between him and his cap- 
tors at Sudley church, he continued on his way 
till the gray streaks of daylight appeared behind 
him. 

This phenomenon promised to afford him a 
gleam of intelligence upon which to found a cor¬ 
rect solution of his course. Tom knew that, in 
the ordinary course of events, the sun ought to 
rise in the east and set in the west. If he was 
going to the north, the sun would rise on his right 
hand—if to the south, on his left hand. The 
streaks of light grew more and more distinct, 
and the clouds having rolled away, he satisfied 
himself where the sun would appear. Contrary 
to both wings of his theory, the place was neither 
on his right nor his left, for it was exactly behind 
him. But his position might be upon a bend of 
the railroad whose direction did not correspond 
with the general course of the road. For half an 
hour longer, therefore, he pursued his way, care¬ 
fully noting every curve, until he was fully con¬ 
vinced that his course was nearer west than north. 
The sun rose precisely as had been laid down in 
the programme, and precisely where he expected 
it would rise. 

It was clear enough that he was not moving to 
the south; and, satisfied that he was in no danger 
of stumbling upon Richmond, his courage in¬ 
creased, and he plodded on till he discovered a 
small village—or what would be called such in 
Virginia—though it contained only a few houses. 


138 The Soldier Boy, or 

As he still wore the uniform of the United States 
army, he did not deem it prudent to pass through 
this" village; besides, he was terribly perplexed 
to know what station it could be, and what had 
become of Fairfax. Though he must have passed 
through the country before, it did not look natural 
to him. 

Leaving the railroad, he took to the fields, in¬ 
tending to pass round the village, or conceal him¬ 
self in the woods till he could go through it in 
safety. After walking diligently for so many 
hours, Tom was reminded that he had a stomach. 
His rations on the preceding day had not been 
very bountiful, and he was positively hungry. 
The organ which had reminded him of its exist¬ 
ence was beginning to be imperative in its de¬ 
mands, and a new problem was presented for 
solution—one which had not before received the 
attention which it deserved. 

In the fields and forest he found a few berries; 
but all he could find made but a slight impression 
upon the neglected organ. If Tom was a philoso¬ 
pher, in his humble way, he was reasonable enough 
to admit that a man could not live without eat¬ 
ing. At this point, therefore, the question of 
rations became a serious and solemn problem; and 
the longer it remained unsolved the more difficult 
and harassing it became. 

After he had rested all the forenoon in a se¬ 
cluded spot, without interruption from man or 
beast, he decided to settle this question of rations 
once for all. If impudence had enabled him to 
pass a line of rebel sentries, it ought to furnish 
him with a dinner. Leaving his hiding place, 


Tom Somers in the Army. 1^9 

he walked till he discovered a small house, at 
which he determined to apply for something to 
eat. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

DINNER AND DANGER. 

The house at which Tom applied for food evi¬ 
dently did not belong to one of the “ first fam¬ 
ilies,” or, if it did, the owner’s fortunes had be¬ 
come sadly dilapidated. It was built of rough 
boards, with a huge stone chimney, which was 
erected on the outside of the structure. The 
humblest fisherman in Pinchbrook Harbor would 
have thought himself poorly accommodated in 
such a rough and rickety mansion. 

If Tom’s case had not been growing desperate, 
he would not have run the risk of showing him¬ 
self to any person on the “ sacred soil ” who was 
“to the manor born;” but his stomach was be¬ 
coming more and more imperative in its de::.iands, 
and he knocked at the front door with r.i iv mis¬ 
givings, especially as his exchequer contained less 
than a dollar of clear cash. 

The inmates were either very deaf or very much 
indisposed to see visitors; and Tom, after he had 
knocked three times, began to think he had not 
run any great risk in coming to this house. As 
nobody replied to his summons, he took the liberty 
to open the door and enter. The establishment 
was even more primitive in its interior than its 
exterior, and the soldier boy could not help con- 



140 The Soldier Boy, or 

trasting it with the neat houses of the poor in his 
native town. 

The front door opened into a large room with¬ 
out the formality of an entry or hall. In one 
corner of the apartment stood a bed. At one side 
was a large fireplace, in which half a dozen sticks 
of green wood were hissing and sizzling in a vain 
attempt to make the contents of an iron pot, 
which hung over them, reach the boiling point. 
No person was to be seen or heard on the premises, 
though the fire and the pot were suggestive of 
humanity at no great distance from the spot. 

A door on the back side of the room was open, 
and Tom looked out in search of the occupants 
of the house. In the garden he discovered the 
whole family, consisting of a man and his wife, 
a girl of twelve, and a boy of ten. The man was 
digging in the garden, and the rest of the troupe 
seemed to be superintending the operation. The 
head of the family was altogether the most in¬ 
teresting person to Tom, for he must either shake 
hands or fight with him. He did not look like a 
giant in intellect, and he certainly was not a 
giant in stature. With the bayonet still in his 
belt, Tom was not afraid of him. 

“ How are you, people? .” said Tom, as he walked 
towards the family, who with one accord sus¬ 
pended all operations, and gave their whole at¬ 
tention to the stranger. 

“ How are ye, youtself?” replied the man, 
rather gruffly.” 

“ Do you keep a hotel?” demanded Tom, who 
concealed the anxiety of his heart under a broad 
grin. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 141 

“ I reckon I don’t. What do you want here?” 

“ I want something to eat/’ replied Tom, pro¬ 
ceeding to business with commendable straight¬ 
forwardness. 

“ We liain’t got nothin' here/’ said the man, 
sourly. “ That ain’t what ye come fur, nuther.” 

“ Must have something to eat. I’m not very 
particular, but I must have something.” 

“ You can’t hev it ’bout yere, no how. That 
ain’t what ye come fur, nuther.” 

“If you know what I came for better than I 
do, suppose you tell me what it is,” added Tom, 
who was a little mystified by the manner of the 
man. 

“ You air one of them soger fellers, and you 
want me to ’list; but I tell yer, ye can’t do nothin’ 
of the sort. I’ll be dog derned if I’ll go.” 

“ I don’t want you to go,” protested Tom. 
“ I’m half starved and all I want is something to 
eat.” 

“ Yer don’t reelly mean so.” 

“ Yes, I do.” 

“Where d’ yer come from?” 

“ From down below here. Have you seen any 
soldiers pass through this place? ” 

“I reckon I hev; but they liain’t seen me; and 
I reckon they won’t see me very soon; ” and the 
man chuckled at his own cleverness in keeping 
clear of recruiting officers. 

“ I don’t want you, and if you will give me 
something to eat, you will get rid of me very 
quick.” 

“ Betsey, you kin feed the feller, if yer like, 
and I’ll go over and see whar the hogs is.” 


142 The Soldier Boy, or 

The man dropped his shovel, and began to move 
off towards the woods, probably to see whether 
Tom would attempt to detain him. At the same 
time “ Betsey ” led the way into the house, and 
the visitor paid no further attention to the mas¬ 
ter. 

“ We hain’t got much to eat in the house,” 
said the woman, as they entered the room. 
“ There’s some biled pork and pertaters in the 
pot, and we’ve got some bread, sech as ’tis.” 

“ It will do me very well. I’m hungry, and 
can eat any thing,” replied Tom. 

The woman placed a tin plate on the table, 
and dished up the contents of the kettle on the 
fire. She added some cold hoe cake to the dinner, 
and Tom thought it was a feast fit for a king. 
He took a seat at the table, and made himself 
entirely at home. The food was coarse, but it 
was good, and the hungry soldier boy did ample 
justice to the viands. The boy and girl who had 
followed him into the house, stood, one on each 
side of him, watching him in speechless astonish¬ 
ment. 

“ Where did yer come from? ” asked the woman, 
when Tom had about half finished his dinner. 

“ From down below,” replied Tom, rather in¬ 
definitely. 

“ Don’t b’long in these yere parts, I reckon?” 

“ No, marm.” 

“Where are ye gwine?” 

“ Going to join my regiment.” 

“Where is yer rigiment?” 

“ That’s more than I know, marm.” 

“ How long yer been travelling?” persisted the 


143 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

woman, who was perhaps afraid that the guest 
would eat up the whole of the family’s dinner, if 
she did not make some kind of a feint to attract 
his attention. 

“ Only a few days, marm.” 

“ Kin yer till me what all thet noise was about 
day ’fore yesterday?” 

“ Yes, marm; it was a big battle.” 

“ Gracious me! Yer don’t say so! Whar was 
it?” 

“ Down below Centreville.” 

“ Which beat?” 

%i The Confederates drove the Yankees off the 
field,” answered Tom, suspending business long 
enough to glance at the woman, and see how the 
intelligence was received. 

“ Yer don’t! Then they won’t want my old 
man.” 

Tom was unable to determine whether his 
hostess was Union or u Secesh ” from her words 
or her looks. Pie could not inform her whether 
they would want her old man or not. When he 
had eaten all he could, he proposed like an honest 
youth to pay for what he had eaten; but Betsey 
had the true idea of southern hospitality, and re¬ 
fused to receive money for the food eaten beneath 
her roof. She had a loaf of coarse bread, however, 
in which she permitted Tom to invest the sum of 
six cents. 

“ I am very much obliged to you, marm; and I 
shall be glad to do as much for you, any time,” 
said Tom, as he went towards the front door. 

As he was about to open it, his ears were 
startled by an imperative knock on the outside. 


144 The Soldier Boy, or 

He stepped back to one of the two windows on the 
front of the house, where he discovered an officer 
and two “ grayback ” soldiers. The ghost of his 
grandmother would not have been half so appall 
ing a sight, and he retreated to the back door 
with a very undignified haste. 

“ Gracious me! ” exclaimed the lady of the 
house. “ Who kin thet be? ” 

“ An officer and two soldiers,” replied Tom, 
hastily. 

“ Then they are arter my old man! ” said she, 
dropping into the only chair the room contained. 

“ Don’t say Pm here, marm, and I’ll help your 
husband, if they catch him. Tell them he has 
gone off to be absent a week.” 

“ He’d be absent more’n thet if he knowed them 
fellers was arter him.” 

The woman moved towards the front door, and 
Tom through the back door; but as he was about 
to pass into the garden, he caught a glimpse of 
one of the graybacks in the rear of the house. For 
a moment his case seemed to be hopeless; but he 
retreated into the room again, just as the woman 
opened the front door to admit the officer. He 
could not escape from the house, and his only 
resource was to secure a hiding place within its 
Avails. There were only two which seemed to be 
available; one of these was the bed, and the other 
the chimney. If any search was made, of course 
the soldiers would explore the bed first; and the 
chimney seemed the most practicable. 

There was no time for consideration, for the 
woman had already opened the door, and Avas an¬ 
swering the questions of the Confederate officer; 


145 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

so Tom sprang into the fireplace, and, by the aid 
of the projecting stones, climbed up to a secure 
position. The chimney was large enough to ac¬ 
commodate half a dozen boys of Tom’s size. The 
fire had gone out, and though the stones were 
rather warm in the fireplace, he was not uncom¬ 
fortable. 

The fears of the lady of the house proved to be 
well grounded this time, for the party had ac¬ 
tually come in search of her “ old man; ” and 
what was more, the officer announced his in¬ 
tention not to leave without him. 

“ He’s gone away fur a week, and he won’t 
be hum before the fust of August, no how,” said 
the woman resolutely, and adopting Tom’s sug¬ 
gestion to the letter. 

“ All nonsense, woman! He is about here, 
somewhere, and we will find him.” 

“ You may, if you kin.” 

The officer then went out at the back door, as 
Tom judged by his footsteps, and the woman 
asked one of the children what had become of 
the other soldier man. The boy said he was up 
chimney. She then told them not to tell the of¬ 
ficer where he was. 

“ What shell T do?” said she, placing herself 
before the fireplace. 

“ Don’t be alarmed. He will keep out of their 
way,” replied Tom. 

“ But the officer man said lie was gwine to stay 
’bout vere till he gits hum,” moaned the poor 
woman. 

“ He will not do any such thing. Your hus¬ 
band has the woods before him, and he won’t 
let them catch him.” 


146 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Deary me! Fm ’feared they will.” 

“ Where are they now ? ” 

“ They’re gone out to look for him.” 

The officer and his men returned in a few mo* 
ments, having satisfied themselves that the pro¬ 
prietor of the place was not on the premises. 

“ Now we’ll search the house,” said the officer ; 
and Tom heard them walking about in the room. 

Of course the militia man could not be 
found, and the officer used some very unbecoming 
language to express his disapprobation of the 
skulker, as he called him. 

“ Woman, if you don’t tell me where your hus¬ 
band is, I’ll have you arrested,” said he, angrily. 

“ I don’t know myself. He’s gone off over the 
mountains to git some things. Thet’s all I know 
about it, and if yer want to arrest me, yer kin.” 

But. the officer concluded that she would be a 
poor substitute for an able bodied man, and he 
compromised the matter by leaving one of the 
privates, instructing him not to let the woman or 
the children leave the house, and to remain till 
the skulker returned. 

This was not very pleasant information for 
Tom who perceived that he was likely to be shut 
up in the chimney for the rest of the day, and 
perhaps be smoked or roasted out at supper time. 
Climbing up to the top of his prison house, he 
looked over, and saw the officer and one private 
disappear in the woods which lay between the 
house and the railroad. Looking over the other 
way, he say the coveted recruit approaching the 
house from beyond the garden. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 


147 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE REBEL SOLDIER. 

Tom Somers was not very well satisfied with 
his situation, for the soldier who had been left 
in possession of the house was armed with a 
musket, and the prospect of escaping before night 
w T as not very flattering. The patriarch of the 
family, who had such a horror of recruiting of¬ 
ficers, was approaching, and in a few moments 
there would be an exciting scene in the vicinity. 

Independent of his promise made to the wo¬ 
man to help her husband, if she would not be¬ 
tray him, Tom deemed it his duty to prevent the 
so-called Confederate States of America from ob¬ 
taining even a single additional recruit for the 
armies of rebellion and treason. Without hav¬ 
ing any personal feeling in the matter, therefore, 
he was disposed to do all he could to assist his 
host in “ avoiding the draft.” What would have 
been treason in New England was loyalty in Vir¬ 
ginia. 

The unfortunate subject of the Virginia mili¬ 
tia law was unconsciously approaching the trap 
which had been set for him. He had, no doubt, 
come to the conclusion, by this time, that the 
hungry soldier boy was not a recruiting officer, 
or even the corporal of a guard sent to appre- 


14.8 


The Soldier Boy, or 

hend him, and he was returning with confidence 
to partake of his noonday meal. Tom, from his 
perch at the top of the chimney, watched him 
as he ambled along over the rough path with his 
eyes fixed upon the ground. There was something 
rather exciting in the situation of affairs, and 
he soon found himself deeply interested in the 
issue. 

The unhappy citizen owing service to the Con¬ 
federate States climbed over the zigzag fence that 
enclosed his garden, and continued to approach 
the rude dwelling which the law had defined to 
be his castle. Tom did not dare to speak in tones 
loud enough to be heard by the innocent victim 
of the officer’s conspiracy, for they would have 
betrayed his presence to the enemy. Sitting upon 
the top stones of the chimney, he gesticulated 
violently, hoping to attract his attention; but 
the man did not look up, and consequently could 
not see the signals. 

lie had approached within ten rods of the back 
door of the house, when Tom, fearing his footsteps 
might attract the attention of the soldier, ven¬ 
tured to give a low whistle. As this was not 
heeded, he repeated the signal when the man was 
within two or three rods of the house; but even 
this was not noticed, and throwing his head for¬ 
ward, so that the sound of his voice should not 
descend the chimney, he spoke. 

“ Halloo!” said he. 

The man suddenly stopped, and looked up. 
Tom made signals with his hands for him to 
leave; but this mute language appeared not to 
be intelligible to him. 


i 4 9 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ Consarn yer picter, what are yer doin’ up 
thar?” said the proprietor of the castle, in tones 
which seemed to Tom as loud as the roar of the 
cannon at Bull Run. 

“ Hush ! Hush ! ” replied Tom, gesticulating 
with all his might, and using all his ingenuity to 
invent signs that would convey to the militiaman 
the idea that he was in imminent danger. 

“ You be scotched! ” snarled the man. “ What 
are yer doin’? What ails yer? ” 

“ They are after you! ” added Tom, in a hoarse 
whisper. 

The fellow most provokingly refused to hear 
him, and Tom thought his skull was amazingly 
thick, and his perceptions amazingly blunt. 

“ Now you come clown from thar,” said he, as 
he picked up a couple of stones. “ You act like 
a monkey, and I s’pose yer be one. Now make 
tracks down that chimley.” 

But instead of doing this, Tom retreated into 
his shell, as a snail does when the moment of-peril 
arrives. The soldier in the house was not deaf; 
and if he had been, he could hardly have helped 
hearing the stentorian tones of his victim. In' 
stead of going out the back door, like a sensible 
man, he passed out at the front door, and in a 
moment more Tom heard his voice just beneath 
him. 

“ Halt! ” shouted the soldier, as he brought his 
musket to his shoulder. “ Your name is Joe 
Burnap.” 

“ That’s my name, but I don’t want nothin’ o’ 
you,” replied the embarrassed militiaman, as he 
dropped the stones with which he had intended to 
assault Tom’s citadel. 


The Soldier Boy, or 


150 

“ I want something of you,” replied the soldier. 
“ You must go with me. Advance, and give your¬ 
self . up.” 

“ What fur? ” asked poor Joe. 

“ We want you for the army. You are an en¬ 
rolled militiaman. You must go with me.” 

“ Ill be dog derned if I do,” answered Joe Bur- 
nap, desperately. 

“ If you attempt to run away, I’ll shoot you. 
Y r ou shall go with me, dead or alive, and hang me 
if I care much which.” 

Joe evidently did care. He did not want to go 
with the soldier; his southern blood had not been 
tired by the wrongs of his country; and he was 
equally averse to being shot in cold blood by this 
minion of the Confederacy. His position was ex¬ 
ceedingly embarrassing, for he could neither run, 
fight, nor compromise. While matters were in 
this interesting and critical condition, Tom ven- 
turned to raise his head over the top of the chim¬ 
ney to obtain a better view of the belligerents. 
Joe stood where he had last seen him, and the 
soldier was standing within three feet of the foot 
of the chimney. 

“ What ye going to do, Joe Burnap?” de¬ 
manded the latter, after waiting a reasonable 
time for the other to make up his mind. 

“ What am I gwine to do?” repeated Joe, va¬ 
cantly, as he glanced to the right and the left, 
apparently in the hope of obtaining some sug¬ 
gestion that would enable him to decide the mo¬ 
mentous question. 

“You needn’t look round, Joe; you’ve got to 
come or be shot. Just take your choice between 
the two, and don’t waste my time.” 


Tom Someis !n the Army. 151 

“ I s’pose I can’t help myself,” replied Joe. 
“ I’ll tell ye what I’ll do. I want to fix up things 
about hum a little, and I’ll jine ye down to the 
Gap to-morrow.” 

“ No you don’t, Joe Burnap!” said the soldier, 
shaking his head. 

“Then I’ll jine ye to-night,” suggested the 
strategist. 

“ My orders are not to return without you, 
and I shall obey them.” 

Mrs. Burnap, who had followed the soldier out 
of the house, stood behind him wringing her hands 
in an agony of grief. She protested with all a 
woman’s eloquence against the proceedings of the 
soldier; but her tears and her homely rhetoric 
were equally unavailing. While the parties were 
confronting each other, the soldier dropped his 
piece, and listened to the arguments of Joe and 
his wife. When he turned for a moment to listen 
to the appeals of the woman, her husband im¬ 
proved the opportunity to commence a retreat. 
He moved off steadily for a few paces, when the 
enemy discovered the retrograde march, and again 
brought the gun to his shoulder. 

“ None of that, Joe,” said the soldier, sternly. 
“ Now march back again, or I’ll shoot you; ” and 
Tom heard the click of the hammer as he cocked 
the piece. “ I’ve fooled long enough with you, 
and we’ll end this busines here. Come here, at 
once, or I’ll put a bullet through your head.” 

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! For mercy’s 
sake don’t shoot,” cried Mrs. Burnap. 

“I’ll give him one minute to obey the order; 
if he don’t do it then, I’ll fire. That’s all I’ve 
got to say.” 


I 5 2 


The Soldier Boy, or 

Tom saw by the soldier’s manner that he in¬ 
tended to execute his threat. He saw him brace 
up his nerves, and otherwise prepare himself for 
the bloody deed. But Tom did not think that 
Joe had the stubbornness or the courage, which¬ 
ever it might be called, to run the risk of dodg¬ 
ing the bullet. He foresaw, too, that, if Joe gave 
himself up, his hiding place would be exposed, 
and the soldier would have two prisoners to con¬ 
duct back to his officer, instead of one. It was 
therefore high time for him to do something for 
his own protection, if not for that of his host. 

The necessity of defending himself, or of doing 
something to cover his retreat in an emergency, 
had been anticipated by Tom, and he had made 
such preparations as the circumstances would 
admit. His first suggestion was to dart his bayo¬ 
net down at the rebel soldier, as he had seen the 
fishermen of Pinchbrook harpoon a horse mack¬ 
erel; but the chances of hitting the mark were 
too uncertain to permit him to risk the loss of 
his only weapon, and he rejected the plan. He 
adopted the method, however, in a modified form, 
deciding to use the material of which the chim¬ 
ney was constructed, instead of the bayonet. The 
stones being laid in clay instead of mortar, were 
easily detached from the structure, and he had 
one in his hands ready for operations. 

“ Come here, Joe Burnap, or you are a dead 
man,” repeated the soldier, who evidently had 
some scruples about depriving the infant Confed¬ 
eracy of an able-bodied recruit. 

Tom Somers, being unembarrassed by any such 
scruples, lifted himself up from his hiding place, 


*53 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

and hurled the stone upon the soldier, fully ex¬ 
pecting to hit him on the head, and dash out 
his brains. The best laid calculations often mis¬ 
carry, and Tom’s did in part, for the missile, 
instead of striking the soldier upon the head, 
hit him on the right arm. The musket was dis¬ 
charged, either by the blow or by the act of its 
owner, and fell out of his hands upon the ground. 

Now, a stone as big as a man’s head, does not 
fall from the height of fifteen feet upon any vul¬ 
nerable part of the human frame without inflict¬ 
ing some injury; and in strict conformity with 
this doctrine of probabilities, the stone which 
Tom hurled down upon the rebel, and which 
struck him upon the right arm, entirely disabled 
that useful member. The hero of this achieve¬ 
ment was satisfied with the result, though it had 
not realized his anticipations. Concluding that 
the time had arrived for an effective charge, he 
leaped out of the chimney upon the roof of the 
house, descended to the eaves, and then jumped 
down upon the ground. 

The soldier, in panic and pain, had not yet re¬ 
covered from the surprise occasioned by this sud¬ 
den and unexpected onslaught. Tom rushed up 
to him, and secured the musket before he had time 
to regain his self-possession. 

“ Who are you?” demanded the soldier, hold¬ 
ing up the injured arm with his left hand. 

“Your most obedient servant,” replied Tom, 
facetiously, as he placed himself in the attitude 
of “ charge bayonets.” “ Have you any dangerous 
weapons about your person ? ” 

“Yes, I have,” replied the soldier, resolutely, 


54 


The Soldier Boy, or 

as he retreated a few steps, and attempted to 
thrust his left hand into the breast pocket of 
his coat. 

“ Hands down! ” exclaimed Tom, pricking his 
arm with the bayonet attached to the musket. 
“ Here, Joe Burnap! ” 

“ What d’ yer want? ” replied the proprietor of 
the house, who was as completely “ demoralized ” 
by the scene as the rebel soldier himself. 

“ Put your hand into this man’s pocket, and 
take out his pistol. If he resists, I’ll punch him 
with this,” added Tom, demonstrating the move¬ 
ment by a few vigorous thrusts with the bayonet. 

With some hesitation Joe took a revolver from 
the pocket of the soldier, and handed it to Tom. 

“ Examine all his pockets. Take out every¬ 
thing he has in them,” added Tom, cocking the 
revolver, and pointing it at the head of the pris¬ 
oner. 

Joe took from the pdekets of the rebel a quan¬ 
tity of pistol cartridges, a knife, some letters, 
and a wallet. 

“ Who’s this fur?” asked Joe, as he proceeded 
to open the wallet, and take therefrom a roll of 
Confederate “ shin-plasters.” 

“ Give it back to him.” 

“ But this is money.” 

“ Money!” sneered Tom. “A northern beggar 
wouldn’t thank you for all he could carry of it. 
Give it back to him, and every thing else except 
the cartridges.” 

Joe reluctantly restored the wallet, the letters, 
and the knife, to the pockets from which he had 
taken them. Tom then directed him to secure 
the cartridge box of the soldier. 


J 5S 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“You are my prisoner,” said Tom; “but I be¬ 
lieve in treating prisoners well. You may go into 
the house, and if your arm is much hurt, Mrs. 
Burnap may do what she can to help you.” 

The prisoner sullenly attended the woman into 
the house, and Tom followed as far as the front 
door. 

“Now, what am I gwine to do?” said Joe. 
“ You’ve got me into a right smart scrape.” 

“ I thought I had got you out of one,” replied 
Tom. “Do you intend to remain here?” 

“ Sartin not, now. T must clear.” 

“ So must T; and we have no time to spare. 
Get what you can to eat, and come along.” 

In ten minutes more, Tom and Joe Burnap 
were travelling towards the mountains. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THROUGH THE GAP. 

Joe Burnap was perfectly familiar with the 
country, and Tom readily accepted him as a 
guide; and, as they had a common object in 
view, neither had good cause for mistrusting the 
other. They walked, without stopping to rest, 
till the sun set behind the mountains towards 
which they were travelling. 

“ I reckon we needn’t hurry now,” said Joe, as 
be seated himself on a rock. 

“ I don’t think there is any danger of their 
catching us,” replied Tom, as he seated himself 



156 The Soldier Boy, or 

beside his fellow-traveller. “ Can you tell me 
where we are ? ” 

“ I reckon I can. There ain’t a foot of land 
in these yere parts that I hain’t had my foot on. 
I’ve toted plunder 0 f all sorts through these 
woods more’n ten thousand times.” 

“'Well, where are we?” asked Tom, whose 
doubts in regard to the locality had not yet been 
solved. 

In the pressure of more exciting matters, he 
had not attempted to explain why he did not 
come to Fairfax station while following the rail¬ 
road. 

“If we keep on a little while longer, I reckon 
we shall come to Thoroughfare Gap,” answered 
Joe. 

“But where do you live? What town is your 
house in?” asked Tom, who had never heard of 
Thoroughfare Gap before. 

“ Haymarket is the nearest town to my house.” 

“What railroad is that over there?” asked 
Tom, who was no nearer the solution of the ques¬ 
tion than he had been in the beginning. 

“ That’s the Manassas Gap Railroad, I reckon,” 
replied Joe, who seemed to be astonished at the 
ignorance of his companion. 

“Just so,” added Tom, who now, for the first 
time, comprehended where he was. 

When he left Sudley church, he walked at 
random till he came to the railroad; but he had 
struck the Manassas Gap Railroad instead of 
the main line, and it had led him away from 
the great body of the rebels, though it also con¬ 
ducted him away from Washington, where he 


I 57 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

desired to go. He was perplexed at the discovery, 
and at once began to debate the question whether 
it was advisable for him to proceed any farther 
in this direction. 

“ I suppose you are a Union man—ain’t you? ” 
said Tom, after he had considered his situation 
for some time. 

Instead of answering this question, Joe Burnap 
raised his eyes from the ground, and fixed his 
gaze intently upon Tom. He stared at him for 
a moment in doubt and silence, and then resumed 
his former attitude. 

“ You don’t want to fight for the south,” added 
Tom; “ so I suppose you don’t believe in the 
Southern Confederacy.” 

“ I don’t want to fight for nuther of ’em,” 
replied Joe, after a moment of further consider¬ 
ation. “ If they’ll only let me alone, I don’t keer 
which beats.” 

His position was certainly an independent 
one, and he appeared to be entirely impartial. 
The newspapers on either side would not have 
disturbed him. Patriotism—love of country—had 
not found a resting place in his soul. Tom had 
not, from the beginning, entertained a very high 
respect for the man; but now he despised him, 
and thought that a rebel was a gentleman com¬ 
pared with such a character. How a man could 
live in the United States, and not feel an interest 
in the stirring events which were transpiring 
around him, was beyond his comprehension. In 
one word, he so thoroughly despised Joe Burnap, 
that he resolved, at the first convenient oppor¬ 
tunity, to get rid of him, for he did not feel safe 
in the company of such a person. 


i 58 The Soldier Boy, or 

“Now which* side do you fight fur?” asked 
Joe, after a long period of silence. 

“ For the Union side,” replied Tom, promptly. 

“What are yer doin’ here, then?” 

“I was in the battle below, and was taken 
prisoner, got away, and I want to get to Washing¬ 
ton ” 

“ I reckon this ain’t the way to git thar,” added 
Joe. 

“ I doubt whether I can get there any other 
way.” 

Just then, Tom would have given all the money 
he had in the world, and all that the government 
owed him, for a good map of Virginia—or even 
for a knowledge of geography which would have 
enabled him to find his way by the safest route 
to Washington. But he had been a diligent 
scholar in school, and had faithfully improved 
the limited opportunities which had been afforded 
him. His mind could recall the map of Virginia 
which he had studied in school, but the picture 
was too faint to be of much practical benefit 
to him. 

He had treasured up some information, derived 
from the newspapers, in regard to the Manassas 
Gap Railroad. He knew that it passed through 
the Blue Ridge, at the western base of which 
flowed the Shenandoah River: this emptied into 
the Potomac, which would certainly conduct him 
to Washington. In following these two rivers, 
he should have to describe nearly a circle, which 
was not an encouraging fact to a boy on foot, 
with no resources, and in an enemy’s country. 


Tom Somers in the Army. ic^ 

If he returned by the way he came, the country 
was filled with rebel soldiers, and he could hardly 
expect to pass through their lines without being 
captured. Difficult and dangerous as the route 
by the Shenandoah appeared, he decided to adopt 
it. 

Joe Burnap proposed that they should have 
supper and opened the bag which he had filled 
with such eatables as he could hastily procure 
on leaving home. They ate a hearty meal, and 
then resumed their walk for another hour. 

“ I reckon we’d better stop here,” said Joe. 
“ The Gap’s only half a mile from here, and it’s 
too arly in the night to go through thar yet. 
Thar’s too many soldiers goin’ that way.” 

"What time will you go through?” asked 
Tom. 

“ Not afore midnight.” 

"Then I’ll turn in and take a nap. I didn’t 
sleep any last night.” 

“ I’m agreed,” replied Joe, who seemed to be 
indifferent to every thing while he could keep out 
of the rebel army. 

Tom coiled up his body in the softest place he 
could find, and went to sleep. Exhausted by 
fatigue and the want of rest, he did not wake 
for many hours. He came to his senses with a 
start, and jumped upon his feet. For a moment, 
he could not think where he was; but then came 
the recollection that he was in the country of 
his enemies—a wanderer and a fugitive. 

He looked about him in search of his travelling 
companion; but the fact that he could not see 
him in the night was no argument that he was 


160 The Soldier Boy, or 

not near him. He supposed Joe had chosen a 
place to sleep in the vicinity, and thinking he 
might not wake in season to pass through the 
Gap before daylight, he commenced a search for 
him. He beat about the place for half an hour, 
calling his companion by name; but he could not 
see him, and no sound responded to the call but 
the echoes of his own voice. 

The independent Virginia farmer had intici- 
pated Tom’s intention to part company with him, 
and, by this time, perhaps, had passed\through 
the Gap. The soldier boy was not quite ready 
to dispense with the services of his guide, inas¬ 
much as he did not even know where the Gap 
was, or in what direction he must travel to reach 
it. While he was N debating his prospects, an en¬ 
terprising rooster, in the distance, sounded his 
morning call. This assured him that he must 
be near some travelled road, and, taking the di¬ 
rection from the fowl, he resumed his journey. 

A short walk brought him out of the woods, 
and, in the gray light of the dawn, he discovered 
a house. As he did not care to make any new 
acquaintances, he avoided the house, and contin¬ 
ued his travels till he arrived at a road. As it 
was too early in the morning for people to be 
stirring, he ventured to follow the highway, and 
soon perceived an opening in the mountains, 
which he doubted not was the Gap. 

At sunrise he arrived at another house, which 
suddenly came into view as he rounded a bend 
in the road. Near it were several negroes en¬ 
gaged in various occupations. As he passed the 
house, the negroes all suspended operations, and 


Tom Somers in the Army, 161 

stared at him till he was out of sight. He soon 
reached the Gap; but he had advanced only a 
shirt distance before he discovered a battery of 
light artillery stationed on a kind of bluff, and 
whose guns commanded the approaches in every 
direction. 

Deeming it prudent to reconnoitre before he 
proceeded any farther, he also ascertained that the 
Gap was picketed by rebel infantry. Of course 
it was impossible to pass through under these 
circumstances, and he again took to the woods. 
The scanty supply of food which he had pur¬ 
chased from Mrs. Burnap was now produced, and 
he made an economical breakfast. Finding a 
secluded place, he stretched himself upon the 
ground, and went to sleep. Though he slept till 
the sun had passed the meridian, the day was 
a very long one. 

When it was fairly dark, he resolved to attempt 
the passage of the Gap, for he was so tired of in¬ 
action that peril and hardship seemed preferable 
to doing nothing. Returning to the road, he pur¬ 
sued his way with due diligence through the nar¬ 
rowing defile of the mountains, till he suddenly 
came upon a sentinel, who challenged him. Be¬ 
fore he started from his hiding place, Tom had 
carefully loaded the revolver which he had taken 
from the rebel soldier; and, as he walked along, 
he carried the weapon in his hand, ready for 
any emergency that might require its use. 

The guard questioned him, and Tom replied 
that he had fought in the battle down below, and 
had a furlough to go home and see his father, 
who was very sick. 


162 


or 


The Soldier Boy, 

“ Where’s your furlough?” demanded the sol* 
dier. 

“ In my pocket.” 

“ Let me see it.” 

“ Here it is,” replied Tom, producing an old 
letter which he happened to have in his pocket. 

The sentinel took the paper, unfolded it, and 
turned it over two or three times. It was too 
dark for him to read it if he had been able to do 
so, for all the rebel soldiers are not gifted in 
this way. 

“ I reckon this won’t do,” he added, after pa¬ 
tiently considering the matter. “ Just you tote 
this paper up to the corporal thar, and if he 
says it’s all right, you kin go on.” 

“ But I can’t stop to do all that. Here’s my 
pass, and I want to go on. My father may die 
before I get home.” 

“ What regiment do you b’long to?” asked the 
guard, who evidently did not wish to disoblige 
a fellow-soldier unnecessarily. 

“The Second Virginia,” replied Tom, at a ven¬ 
ture. 

“Where does your father live?” continued the 
sentinel. 

“ Just beyond the Gap, if lie’s living at all.” 

“What town?” 

Tom was nonplussed, for he did not know the 
name of a single place on the route before 
him; and, of course, he did not dare to answer 
the question. 

“ About five or six miles from here,” he an¬ 
swered. 

“ Is it Salem or White Plains?” demanded the 


Tom Somers in the Army. 163 

soldier, whose cunning was inferior to his hon¬ 
esty. 

“ White Plains/’ added Tom, promptly accept* 
ing the suggestion. 

“ What’s the matter with your father? ” 

“ I don’t know; he was taken suddenly.” 

“ Pears like your uniform ain’t exactly our 
sort,” added the soldier. 

“Mine was all used up, and I got one on the 
battle-field.” 

“ I wouldn’t do that. It’s mean to rob a dead 
man of his clothes.” 

“ Couldn’t help it—I was almost naked,” re¬ 
plied Tom, who perfectly agreed with the rebel 
on this point. 

“ You kin go on, Old Virginny,” said the sol¬ 
dier, whose kindly sympathy for Tom and his 
sick father was highly commendable. 

The soldier boy thanked the sentinel for his 
permission, of which he immediately availed him¬ 
self. Tom did not yet realize the force of the 
maxim that “all is fair in war,” and his con¬ 
science gave a momentary twinge as he thought of 
the deception he had practised upon the honest 
and kind-hearted rebel. He was very thankful 
that he had not been compelled to put a bullet 
through his head ; but perhaps he was more thank¬ 
ful that the man had not been obliged to do him 
a similar favor. 

The fugitive walked, with an occasional rest, 
till daylight the next morning. He went through 
three or four small villages. After passing 
through the Gap, he had taken the railroad, as 
less likely to lead him through the more thickly 


164 


The Soldier Boy, or 


settled parts of the country. Before him the 
mountains of the Blue Ridge rose like an im¬ 
passable wall, and when the day dawned lie was 
approaching Manassas Gap. He had walked 
twenty-five miles during the night, and prudence, 
as well as fatigue, required him to seek a place 
of rest. 


CHAPTER XX. 

DOWN THE SHENANDOAH. 

In that wild mountain region, Tom had no dif¬ 
ficulty in finding a secluded spot, where there 
was no probability that he would be molested. 
He had been in a state of constant excitement 
during the night, for the country was full of 
soldiers. The mountaineers of Virginia were 
rushing to the standard of rebellion. They were 
a wild, rude set of men, and they made the night 
hideous with their debauchery. Tom succeeded 
in keeping out of the way of the straggling par¬ 
ties which were roaming here and there; but he 
was filled with dread and anxiety lest he should, 
at the next moment, stumble upon a camp, or 
a squad of these marauders. 

The nook in the mountains which he had chosen 
as his resting place was a cleft in the rocks, 
concealed by the overhanging branches of trees. 
Here he made his bed, as the sun rose, and, worn 
out with fatigue and anxiety, he dropped asleep. 

When he awoke, the sun was near the meridian. 
He rose and walked out a short distance from 



Tom Somers in the Army. 165 

liis lodging place, and listened for any sounds 
which might indicate the presence of an enemy. 
All was still; silence deep and profound reigned 
through the solitudes of the mountains. Tom 
returned to his place of concealment, and after 
eating the remainder of the food he had brought 
with him, he stretched himself upon the ground, 
and went to sleep again. He had nothing else 
to do, and he needed all the rest he could obtain. 
It was fortunate for him that he had self-posses¬ 
sion enough to sleep—to banish his nervous doubts 
and fears, and thus secure the repose which was 
indispensable to the success of his arduous enter- 
prise. 

It was after sundown when he finished his sec¬ 
ond nap. He had slept nearly all day,—at least 
ten hours,—and he was entirely refreshed and 
restored. He was rather stiff in some of his 
limbs when he got up; but he knew this would 
wear off after a little exercise. He had no supper 
with which to brace himself for the night’s work; 
so he took a drink from the mountain stream, and 
made his way back to the railroad. But it was 
too early then to commence the passage of the 
Gap, and he sat for a couple of hours by the side 
of the road, before he ventured to resume his 
journey. 

While he was passing through the narrow gorge 
in the mountains, he met several persons, on 
foot and on horseback; but as he was armed with 
a pistol, he did not turn out for them; but when 
a party of soldiers approached, he sought a 
hiding place by the side of the road until they 
were out of hearing. When he had passed through 


166 The Soldier Boy, or 

the Gap, he came to a road crossing the track, 
and after debating the question thoroughly, he 
decided to abandon the railroad, and pursued 
his course by the common highway towards the 
North. 

Continuing his journey diligently for a time 
longer, he came to another road, branching off to 
the left from the one he had chosen, which re¬ 
quired further consideration. But his conclusion 
was satisfactory, and he continued on the same 
road, which soon brought him to a more thickly 
settled country than that through which he had 
been travelling. 

By this time Tom’s stomach began to be re¬ 
bellious again, and the question of rations began 
to assume a serious aspect. He was not suffering 
for food, but it was so much more comfortable 
to travel upon a full stomach than an empty 
one, that he could not pass a dwelling house with¬ 
out thinking of the contents of the cellar and 
closets. It was perfectly proper to forage on the 
enemy; but he could not eat raw chicken and 
geese, or the problem of rations would have been 
effectually settled by a demonstration on the hen¬ 
coops of the Shenandoah valley. 

He came to a halt before a large mansion, which 
had the appearance of belonging to a wealthy 
person. Its larder and kitchen cupboards, he 
doubted not, were plentifully supplied with the 
luxuries of the season; and Tom thought he 
might as well obtain his provisions now, as wait 
till he was driven to desperation by hunger. 
He entered the front gate of the great house, 
and stepped upon the veranda in front of it. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 167 

The windows reached down to the floor. He tried 
one of them, and found that it was not fastened. 
He carefully raised the sash and entered. 

Tom was determined to put himself upon his 
impudence on the present occasion; but he satis¬ 
fied himself that his revolver was in condition 
for instant use before he proceeded any farther. 
Passing from the front room to an apartment in 
the rear, he found a lamp and matches, and con¬ 
cluded that he would have some light on the 
subject, which was duly obtained. Leaving this 
room, he entered another, which proved to be 
the kitchen. A patient search revealed to him 
the lurking place of a cold roast chicken, some 
fried bacon, bread, and crackers. 

Placing these things on the table, he seated 
himself to partake of the feast which the fore¬ 
thought of the occupants had provided for him. 
Tom began to be entirely at home, for having 
thrown himself on his impudence now; he did not 
permit any doubts or fears to disturb him; but 
the handle of his pistol protruded from between 
the buttons of his coat. He ate till he had satis¬ 
fied himself, when he happened to think that the 
coffee pot he had seen in the closet might contain 
some cold coffee; and he brought it out. He was 
not disappointed, and even found sugar and milk. 
He poured out a bowl of the beverage, and, hav¬ 
ing prepared it to his taste, was about to con¬ 
clude the feast in this genteel style, when he 
heard footsteps in the adjoining entry. 

Tom determined not to be cheated out of his 
coffee, and instead of putting himself in a flurry, 
he took the bowl in one hand and the pistol in 


168 


The Soldier Boy, or 

the other. The door opened, and a negro timidly 
entered the room. 

" Well, sar!” said the servant, as he edged 
along the side of the room. " Hem ! Well, sar! ” 

Tom took no notice of him, but continued to 
drink his coffee as coolly as though he had been 
in his mother’s cottage at Pinchbrook. 

" Hem ! Well, sar! ” repeated the negro, who 
evidently wished to have the interloper take some 
notice of him. 

But the soldier boy refused to descend from his 
dignity or his impudence. He finished the bowl 
of coffee as deliberately as though the darkey 
had been somewhere else. 

"Well, sar! Who’s you, sar?” 

" Eh, Blackee? ” 

"Who’s you, sar?” 

“ Good chicken ! Good bread ! Good bacon! ” 
added Tom. "Are the folks at home, Blackee?” 

"No, sar; nobody but de women folks, sar. 
Who’s you, sar? ” 

"It don’t make much difference who I am. 
Where’s your master?” 

" Gone to Richmond, sar. He’s member ob 
Congress.” 

" Then he’s in poor business, Blackee,” said 
Tom, as he took out his handkerchief, and pro¬ 
ceeded to transfer the remnants of his supper 
to its capacious folds. 

" Better luff dem tings alone, sar.” 

But Tom refused to " luff dem alone,” and when 
he had placed them on the handkerchief, he made 
a bundle of them. 

" Golly, sar! I’ll tell my missus what’s gwine 


Tom Somers in the Army. 169 

on down here,” added the servant, as he moved 
towards the door. 

“ See here, Blackee,” interposed Tom, pointing 
his pistol at the negro; “ if you move, I’ll put one 
of these balls through your skull.” 

“ De Lud sabe us, massa! Don’t shoot dis 
nigger, massa.” 

“ Hold your tongue then, and mind what 1 
say.” 

“ Yes, massa,” whined the darkey, in the most 
abject tones. 

“ Now come with me, Blackee, and if you open 
your mouth, one of these pills shall go down your 
throat.” 

Tom flourished his pistol before the negro, and 
led - the way to the window by which he had 
entered the house. Passing out upon the veranda, 
he cautiously conducted the terrified servant to 
the road; and when they had gone a short dis¬ 
tance, he halted. 

“ Now, Blackee, what town is this? ” demanded 
Tom. 

“ Leeds Manor, sar,” replied the trembling 
negro. 

“ How far is it to the Shenandoah River?” 

“ Only two or tree miles, massa. Now let dis 
chile go home again.” 

“ Not yet.” 

“ Hab mercy on dis nigger dis time, and sabe 
him.” 

“ I won’t hurt you, if you behave yourself.” 

Tom questioned him for some time in regard to 
to river, and the towns upon its banks; and when 
lie had obtained all the information in regard 


170 


The Soldier Boy, or 

to the valley which the servant possessed, he 
resumed his journey, driving the negro before 
him. 

“ Spare dis chile, massa, for de sake ob de wife 
and chil’n,” pleaded the unwilling guide. 

“ I tell you I won’t hurt you if you behave 
yourself,” replied Tom. “ You’ll have the whole 
place down upon me in half an hour, if I let you 
go now.” 

“ No, massa; dis nigger won’t say one word 
’bout you, nor de tings you took from de house 
—not one word, massa. Spare dis chile, and luff 
him go home.” 

But Tom compelled him to walk before him till 
they came to the river. The place was called 
Seaburn’s Ford. 

“ Now, Blackee, if anybody wants me, tell them 
I’ve gone to Winchester,” said Tom, when he had 
ordered his escort to halt. 

“ No, massa, I won’t say one word,” replied 
the servant. 

“ If you do, I’ll shoot you the very next time 
I see you—depend upon that. You can go now.” 

The negro was not slow to avail himself of 
this privilege, and ran off, evidently expecting 
a bullet from the revolver would overtake him 
before he had gone far, for he glanced fearfully 
over his shoulder, begging his captor not to shoot 
him. 

Tom stood upon the bank of the Shenandoah. 
The negro had told him that he was about thirty 
miles from Harper’s Ferry, which he knew was in 
possession of General Patterson’s forces. At¬ 
tached to a tree on the shore was a small flat" 


Tom Somers in the Army. iyr 

bottomed boat, which attracted the attention of 
the soldier boy. Tom was accustomed to boats, 
and the sight of this one suggested a change of 
programme, for it would be much easier to float 
down the stream, than to walk the thirty miles. 
This was a point which needed no argument; and 
unfastening the painter of the boat, he jumped 
in, and pushed off. Seating himself in the stern, 
with the paddle in his hand, he kept her head with 
the current, and swept down the rapid stream 
like a dreamy youth just starting upon the voy¬ 
age of life. 

Like the pilgrim on the sea of time, Tom was 
not familiar with the navigation of the Shenan¬ 
doah, and he had neither chart nor compass to 
assist him. The current was very swift, and once 
in a while the bateau bumped upon a concealed 
rock, or bar of sand. Fortunately no serious 
accident occured to him, though he found that 
the labor of managing the boat was scarcely less 
than that of walking. 

There was one consolation about it; he was in 
no danger of missing the road, and he was not 
bothered by Confederate soldiers or inquisitive 
civilians. His light bark rushed on its way down 
the stream, without attracting the notice of any 
of the inhabitants, if any were abroad at that 
unseemly hour of the night. The difficulties of 
the navigation were overcome with more or less 
labor, and when the day dawned, Tom made up 
his mind that he had done a good night’s work; 
and choosing a secluded nook by the side of the 
river, he hauled up his boat, intending to wait 
for the return of darkness. 


172 The Soldier Boy, or 

The place he had chosen appeared to be far 
from any habitation, and he ate his breakfast in 
a very hopeful frame of mind. Though he was 
not very tired or very sleepy, yet for the want of 
something better to do, he felt compelled to go 
to sleep, hoping, as on the previous day, to dis¬ 
pose of the weary hours in this agreeable man¬ 
ner. His pastime, however, was soon interrupted 
by loud shouts and the tramp of men, not far 
from the spot where he lay. A hurried exami¬ 
nation of the surroundings assured him that he 
had chosen a resting place near one of the fords 
of the river, over which a rebel regiment was 
then passing. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE PROBLEM OF RATIONS. 

The ford over which the rebel regiment was 
passing was only a few rods distant from the 
place where Tom had concealed himself and his 
boat. When he discovered the soldiers, he was 
thrilled with terror; and, fully 7 ' believing that his 
hour had come, he dropped upon the ground, to 
wait, in trembling anxiety, the passage of the 
troops. It was a regiment of Virginia mountain¬ 
eers, clothed in the most fantastic style with 
hunting-shirts and coon-skin caps. They yelled 
and howled like so many wildcats. 

From his hiding place on the bank of the 
stream, he obtained a good view of the men, as 
they waded across the river. He was fearful that 



*73 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

some of them might stray from the ranks, and 
stumble upon his place of refuge; but a kind 
Providence put it into their heads to mind their 
own business, and Tom gathered hope as the 
3 ells of the mountaineers grew indistinct in the 
distance. 

“ This is no place for me,” said Tom to himself, 
when the sounds had died away in the direction 
of the Blue Ridge. “ A whole army of them may 
camp near that ford, and drive me out of my 
hiding place.” 

Jumping into the bateau again, he waited 
till he was satisfied no carriage or body of troops 
was in the vicinity; and then plying the paddle 
with the utmost vigor, he passed the ford. But 
then he found that the public highway ran along 
the banks of the river, which exposed him to in¬ 
creased risk of being seen. A couple of vehicles 
passed along the road while he was in this ex¬ 
posed situation; but as the occupants of them 
seemed to take no notice of him, he congratulated 
himself upon his escape, for presently the boat 
was beneath the shadows of the great trees. 
Finding a suitable place, he again hauled up, 
and concealed himself and the bateau. 

As all danger seemed to have passed, Tom com¬ 
posed his nerves, ate his dinner, and went to 
sleep as usual; but his rest was not so tranquil 
as he had enjoyed in the solitudes of the moun¬ 
tains. Visions of rebel soldiers haunted his 
dreams, and more than once he started up, and 
gazed wildly around him; but these were only 
visions, and there was something more real to dis¬ 
turb his slumbers. 


174 The Soldier Boy, or 

“Hi! Who are you?” exclaimed a wildcat 
soldier, who had penetrated the thicket without 
disturbing the sleeper. 

Tom started up, and sprang to his feet. One 
of the tall mountaineers, whom he had seen cross¬ 
ing the ford, stood before him; and the reality 
was even more appalling than the vision. 

“Who mought you be?” demanded the tall 
soldier, with a good-natured grin upon his greasy 
face. 

“ Faith ! I believe I’ve been asleep! ” said Tom, 
rubbing his eyes, and looking as innocent as, a 
young lamb. 

“ You may bet your life on thet, my boy,” re¬ 
plied the rebel, laughing. “ Hi! Jarvey! ” added 
he, apparently addressing a companion at no 
great distance from the spot. 

Heavy footsteps announced the approach of 
Jarvey, who soon joined them. He was not less 
than six feet three inches in height, and, with 
two such customers as these, Tom had no hope 
except in successful strategy. He had no doubt 
they had obtained information of him from the 
persons in the vehicles, and had come to secure 
him. He fully expected to be marched off to 
the rebel regiment, which could not be far off. 

“Who is he, Sid?” asked Jarvey, when he 
reached the spot. 

“ Dunno. Say, who are ye, stranger?” 

“ Who am I ? Tom Somers, of course. Do you 
belong to that regiment that stopped over yon¬ 
der last night?” asked Tom, with a proper de¬ 
gree of enthusiasm. “Don’t you know me?” 

“ Well, we don’t.” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 175 

“ Didn’t you see me over there? That’s a bully 
regiment of yours. I’d like to join it.” 

“ Would you, though, sonny?” said Sid, laugh¬ 
ing till his mouth opened wide enough for a rail¬ 
road train to pass in. 

“Wouldn’t I, though!” replied Tom. “ If 
there’s any big fighting done, I’ll bet your boys 
do it.” 

“Bet your life on tliet,” added Jarvey. “But 
why don’t you jine a regiment?” 

“ Don’t want to join any regiment that comes 
along. I want to go into a fighting regiment, like 
yours.” 

“ Well, sonny, you ain’t big enough to jine 
ours,” said Sid, as he compassionately eyed the 
young man’s diminutive proportions. 

“ The old man wouldn’t let me go in when 
I wanted to, and I’m bound not to go in any of 
your fancy regiments. I want to fight when I 
go.” 

“ You’ll do, sonny. Now, what ve doing 
here?” 

“ I came out a-fishing, but I got tired, and 
went to sleep.” 

“Where’s your fish-line?” 

“ In the boat.” 

“'What ye got in that handkerchief?” 

“My dinner,” replied Tom. “Won’t you take 
a bite?” 

“What ye got?” 

“ A piece of cold chicken and some bread.” 

“ We don’t mind it now, sonny. Hev you 
seen any men with this gear on in these yere 
parts?” asked Jarvey, as he pointed to his uni¬ 
form. 


176 


The Soldier Boy, or 


“ Yes, sir,” replied Tom, vigorously. 

u Wliar d’ye see ’em, sonny? ” 

“ They crossed the ford, just above, only a little 
while ago.” 

“ How many? ” 

“ Two,” replied Tom, with promptness. 

“ Where’s the other? ” asked Jarvey, turning to 
his companion. 

“ He’s in these yere woods, somewhar. We’ll 
fotch ’em before night. You say the two men 
crossed the ford—did ye, sonny?” 

“ Yes, half an hour ago. What is the matter 
with them?” _ 

“ They’re mean trash, and want to run off. 
Now, sonny, ’spose you put us over the river in 
your boat.” 

“ Yes, sir! ” replied Tom, readily. 

The two wildcats got into the bateau, nearly 
swamping it by their great weight, and Tom soon 
landed them on the other side of the river. 

“ Thank’e, sonny,” said Jarvey, as they jumped 
on shore. “ If you were only four foot higher, 
we’d like to take you into our regiment. You’ll 
make a right smart chance of a soldier one of 
these yere days. Good by, sonny.” 

“ Good by,” answered Tom, as he drew a long 
breath, indicative of his satisfaction at being so 
well rid of his passengers. 

He had fully persuaded himself that he should 
be carried off a prisoner to this wildcat regiment, 
and he could hardly believe his senses when he 
found himself again safely floating down the 
rapid tide of the Shenandoah. His impudence 
and his self-possession had saved him; but it was 


177 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

a mystery to him that his uniform, or the absence 
of his fish-line, or the answers he gave, had not 
betrayed him. The mountaineers had probably 
not yet seen a United States uniform, or they 
would, at least, have questioned him about his 
dress. 

Tom ran down the river a short distance far¬ 
ther before he ventured to stop again, for he 
could not hope to meet with many rebel soldiers 
who were so innocent and inexperienced as these 
wildcats of the mountains had been. When the 
darkness favored his movements, he again em¬ 
barked upon his voyage. Twice during the night 
his boat got aground, and once he was pitched 
into the river by striking upon a rock; but he 
escaped these and other perils of the navigation 
with nothing worse than a thorough ducking, 
which was by no means a new experience to the 
soldier boy. In the morning, well satisfied with 
his night’s work, he laid up for the day in the 
safest place he could find. 

On the second day of his voyage down the river, 
the old problem of rations again presented itself 
for consideration, for the ham and chicken he had 
procured at Leed’s Manor were all gone. There 
were plenty of houses on the banks of the river, 
but Tom had hoped to complete his cruise without 
the necessity of again exposing himself to the 
peril of being captured while foraging for the 
commissary department. But the question was 
as imperative as it had been several times before, 
and twelve hours fasting gave him only a faint 
hint of what his necessities might compel him to 
endure in twenty-four or forty-eight hours. He 


i 7 8 


The Soldier Boy, or 

did not consider it wise to postpone the settle¬ 
ment of the problem till he was actually suffer¬ 
ing for the want of food. 

On the third night of his voyage, therefore, he 
hauled up the bateau at a convenient place, and 
started off upon a foraging expedition, intending 
to visit some farmer’s kitchen, and help himself, 
as he had done on a former occasion. Of course, 
Tom had no idea where he was; but he hoped and 
believed that he should soon reach Harper’s 
Ferry. 

After making his way through the woods for 
half a mile, he came to a public road, which he 
followed till it brought him to a house. It was 
evidently the abode of a thrifty farmer, for near 
it were half a dozen negro houses. As the dwell¬ 
ing had no long windows in front, Tom was 
obliged to approach the place by a flank and rear 
movement; but the back door was locked. He 
tried the windows, and they were fastened. While 
he was reconnoitring the premises, he heard heavy 
footsteps within. Returning to the door, he 
knocked vigorously for admission. 

“ Who’s tliar?” said a man, as he threw the 
door wide open. 

“ A stranger, who wants something to eat,” 
replied Tom, boldly. 

“ Who are ye? ” 

“ My name is Tom Somers,” added the soldier 
bov, as he stepped into the house. “ Can you 
fell me whether the Seventh Georgia Regiment is 
down this way?” 

“ T reckon ’tis; least wise I don’t know. 
There’s three rigiments about five mile below 
yere.” 


i -/9 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ I was told my regiment was down this w T ay> 
and Pm trying to find it. I’m half starved. Will 
you give me something to eat? ” 

“ Sartin, stranger; I’ll do tliet.” 

The man, who was evidently the proprietor of 
the house, brought up the remnant of a boiled 
ham, a loaf of white bread, some butter, and a 
pitcher of milk. Tom ate till he was satisfied. 
The farmer, in deference to his amazing appetite 
probably, suspended his questions till the guest 
began to show some signs of satiety, when he 
pressed him again as vigorously as though he 
had been born and brought up among the hills, 
of New England. 

“ Where d’ye come from? ” said he. 

“ From Manassas. I lost my regiment in the 
fight; and the next day I heard they had been 
toted over this way, and I put after them right 
smart,” answered Tom, adopting as much of the 
Gorgia vernacular as his knowledge would per* 
mit. 

“Walk all the way?” 

“No; I came in the keers most of the way.’* 

“ But you don’t wear our colors,” added the 
farmer, glancing at Tom’s clothes. 

“ My clothes were all worn out, and I helped 
myself to the best suit I could find on the field.” 

“What regiment did ye say ye b’longed to?” 
queried the man, eying the uniform again. 

“ To the Seventh Georgia. Perhaps you can tell 
me where I shall find it.” 

“ I can’t; but I reckon there’s somebody here 
that can. I’ll call him.” 

Tom was not at all particular about obtaining: 


f«8o The Soldier Boy, or 

this information. There was evidently some mili¬ 
tary man in the house, who would expose him 
if he remained any longer. 

“Who is it, father?” asked a person who had 
probably heard a part of the conversation we 
have narrated; for the voice proceeded from a 
bed-room adjoining the apartment in which Tom 
had eaten his supper. 

“ A soldier b’longing to the Seventh Georgia,” 
answered the farmer. “ That’s my son ; he’s a cap¬ 
tain in the cavalry, and he’ll know all about 
it. He can tell you where yer regiment is,” added 
he, turning to Tom, who was edging towards the 
door. 

“ I’m very much obliged to you for my sup¬ 
per,” said the fugitive, nervously. “ I reckon I’ll 
be moving along.” 

“Wait half a second, and my son will tell you 
just where to find your regiment.” 

“The Seventh Georgia?” said the captain of 
cavalry, entering the room at this moment with 
nothing but his pants on. “ There’s no such regi¬ 
ment up here, and hasn’t been. I reckon you’re 
a deserter.” 

“ No, sir! I scorn the charge,” replied Tom, 
with becoming indignation. “ I never desert my 
colors.” 

“ I suppose not,” added the officer, glancing at 
his uniform; “ but your colors desert you.” 

Tom failed to appreciate the wit of the reply, 
and backed off towards the door, with one hand 
upon the stock of his revolver. 

“Hold on to him, father; don’t let him go,” 
said the officer, as he rushed back into his cliam 
ber, evidently for his pistols or his sabre. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 181 

“ Hands off, or you are a dead man; ” cried 
Tom, as he pointed his revolver at the head of the 
farmer. 

In another instant, the captain of cavalry re* 
appeared with a pistol in each hand. A stunning 
report resounded through the house, and Torn 
heard a bullet whistle by his head. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE PICKET GUARD. 

It was sufficiently obvious to Tom that, on the 
present occasion, the suspicions of his host were 
awakened. It is possible that, if he had depended 
upon his impudence, he might have succeeded in 
deceiving the Confederate officer; but his evi¬ 
dent intention to retire from the contest before 
an investigation could be had, proved him, in 
the estimation of the captain, to be either a spy 
or a deserter, and shooting him was preferable 
to losing him. 

The officer fired quick, and with little attention 
to the important matter of a steady aim; and 
Tom had to thank his stars for the hasty shot,, 
for, though it went within a few inches of his 
head, “ a miss was as good as a mile,” and the 
brains of our hero remained intact and complete. 
But he was not willing to be the subject of an y 
further experiments of this description, and with¬ 
out waiting further to express his gratitude to 
the host for the bountiful supper he had eaten. 



182 


The Soldier Boy, or 

he threw open the door, and dashed off at the 
top of his speed. 

The revolver he carried was a very good imple¬ 
ment with which to bully a negro, or an unarmed 
farmer; but Tom had more confidence in his legs 
than in his skill, as a marksman, and before 
the captain could transfer the second pistol from 
ais left to his right hand, he had passed out of 
the house,-and was concealed from his pursuers 
by the gloom of the night. He felt that he had 
had a narrow escape, and he was not disposed 
to trifle with destiny by loitering in the vicinity 
of the house. 

He had not proceeded far before he heard a 
Hue and cry behind him; and if the captain of 
cavalry had not stopped to put on his boots, it 
is more than possible that our humble volume 
might have contained a chapter or two upon 
prison life in Richmond. Undoubtedly it was 
quite proper for the officer to put on his boots 
before he went out; a decent regard for his in¬ 
dividual sanitary condition, and a reasonable 
borror of ague and rheumatism, would have in¬ 
duced him to do it, even at the risk of losing a 
Federal prisoner, or a rebel deserter, as the case 
might be. At any rate, if Tom had known the 
cause of the delay, he would freely have for¬ 
given him for wasting his time in healthful pre¬ 
cautions. 

The fugitive retraced his steps to the river by 
the same route he had taken in approaching the 
hospitable roof of the farmer. As nearly as he 
could judge by the sounds that reached him from 
the distance, the officer and his father were gather* 


Tom Somers in the Army. 183 

ing up a force to bunt down the fugitive. Tom 
jumped into the bateau, and pushed off. Keeping 
under the shadow of the bank of the river, he 
plied his paddle vigorously, and by the time his; 
pursuers arrived at the river, he was a couple 
of miles from the spot. He could hear a shout 
occasionally in the deep silence of the night,, 
but with the distance between him and the enemy s 
he felt entirely secure. The danger had passed* 
and he floated leisurely on his voyage, buoyant 
as his light bark, and hopeful as the dream of 
youth. 

Hour after hour, in the gloom of the solemn 
night, he was borne by the swift tide towards; 
the lines of the loyal army. The day was dawn¬ 
ing, and he was on the lookout for a suitable 
place to conceal himself, until the friendly shades: 
of night should again favor his movements. After 
the experience of the former night near the ford, 
he was very cautious in the selection of a hid¬ 
ing place. It is not always safe to be fastidious; 
for while Tom was rejecting one location, and 
waiting for another to appear, the river bore 
him into a tract of very open country, which 
was less favorable than that through which he 
had just been passing. 

The prospect began to make him nervous; and 
while he was bitterly regretting that he had 
not moored the boat before, he was startled 
to hear a sharp, commanding voice on the bank 
at his left. 

“ Who comes there? Halt! ” 

Tom looked up, and discovered a gray back, 
standing on the shore, very deliberately pointing 
his musket at him. 


184 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Who comes there? ” demanded the picket; for 
at this point were stationed the outposts of the 
rebel force in the Shenandoah valley. 

“ Friend ! ” replied Tom. 

“ Halt, then ! ” 

“ I would, if I could,” answered Tom, as hastily 
as possible. 

“ Halt, or I’ll fire!” 

“ I tell you I can’t halt,” replied Tom, using his 
paddle vigorously, as though he was trying to 
urge the bateau to the shore. “ Don’t fire! For 
mercy’s sake, don’t fire.” 

Tom appeared to be intensely frightened at 
the situation in which he was placed, and re¬ 
doubled his efforts apparently to gain the bank 
of the stream; but the more he seemed to paddle 
one way, the more the boat went the other way. 
However much Tom appeared to be terrified by 
the peril that menaced him, it must be confessed 
that he was not wholly unmoved. 

“ Stop your boat, quick! ” said the soldier, who 
liad partially dropped his musket from its men¬ 
acing position. 

“ I can’t stop it,” responded Tom, apparently 
in any agony of terror. “ I would go ashore if 
I could.” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“The water runs so swift, I can’t stop her; 
!>een trying this two hours.” 

“You will be inside the Yankee lines in half 
an hour if you don’t fetch to,” shouted the picket. 

“Gracious!” exclaimed Tom, redoubling his 
efforts. 

But it was useless to struggle with the furious 


Tom Somers in the Army. 185 

current, and Tom threw himself into the bottom 
of the boat, as if in utter desperation. If Niag¬ 
ara Falls, with their thundering roar and fearfifl 
abyss, had been before him, his agony could not 
have been more intense, as judged from the shore. 

By this time, the sentinel on the bank had been 
joined by his two companions, and the three men 
forming the picket post stood gazing at him, as 
he abandoned himself to the awful fate of being 
captured by the blood-thirst}' Yankees, to whose 
lines the relentless current of the Shenandoah was 
bearing him. 

When Tom was first challenged by the gray- 
back, the boat had been some twenty rods above 
him; and it had now passed the spot where he 
stood, but the rebels were still near enough to 
converse with him. Tom heard one of them ask 
another who he was. Of course neither of them 
knew who he was, or where he came from. 

“ Try again!” shouted one of the pickets. 
“ The Yankees will have you in a few minutes.” 

Tom did make another ineffectual effort to 
check the progress of the bateau, and again aban¬ 
doned the attempt in despair. The rebels fol¬ 
lowed him on the bank, encouraging him with 
words of cheer, and with dire prophecies of his 
fate if he fell into the hands of the cruel Yankees. 

“ Can’t you help me? ” pleaded Tom, in accents 
of despair. “Throw me a rope! Do something 
for me.” 

Now, this was a suggestion that had not before 
occurred to the picket guard, and Tom would have 
been infinitely wiser if he had not put the idea of 
assisting him into their dull brains; for it is not 


186 


The Soldier Boy, or 

at all probable that they would have thought of 
such a thing themselves, for the south, especially 
the poor white trash, are not largely endowed 
with inventive genius. 

“ Save me! Save me! ” cried Tom, as he saw 
the rebels engaged in a hasty consultation, the re¬ 
sult of which was, that two of them started off 
upon the run in a direction at right angles with 
the stream. 

“ Try again ! Stick to it! ” shouted the picket 
left on the shore. 

“ I can’t do any more; I’m all tired out,” re¬ 
plied Tom, throwing himself for the fourth time 
in the bottom of the boat, the very picture of 
despair. 

The picture was very much exaggerated and 
overdrawn; but as long as the bullet from the 
rebel’s musket did not come his way, Tom was 
satisfied with his acting, and hopeful for the 
future. The man on the shore, full of sympathy 
for the distressed and exhausted voyager, walked 
and ran so as to keep up with the refractory 
barge, which seemed to be spitefully hurling its 
agonized passenger into the Federal lines, where 
death and dungeons lurked at every corner. 

While this exciting drama was in progress, 
the stream bore Tom to a sharp bend in the river, 
where the current set in close to the shore. His 
attentive guardian on the bank ran ahead, and 
stationed himself at this point, ready to afford 
any assistance to the disconsolate navigator which 
the circumstances might permit. 

“ Now’s your chance!” shouted he. “ Gosh all 
Whittaker! put in now, and do your pootiest!” 


*7 


Tom Somers in the Army. i 

Tom adopted this friendly advice, and “ put 
in” with all his might; but the more he “ put 
in,” the more he put out—from the shore, whither 
the inauspicious eddies were sweeping him. If 
Tom had not been born in Pinchbrook, and had a 
home by the sea, where boating is an appreciated 
accomplishment, he would probably have been 
borne into the arms of the expectant rebel, or 
received in his vitals the ounce of cold lead which 
that gentleman’s musket contained. As it was, 
he had the skill to do what he seemed not to be 
doing. Mr. Johnny Reb evidently did not suspect 
that Tom was “ playing ’possum,” as the Tennessee 
sharpshooters would have expressed it. The voya¬ 
ger’s efforts appeared to be made in good faith; 
and certainly he applied himself with a degree 
of zeal and energy which ought to have overcome 
the inertia of a small gunboat. 

The bateau approached the point not more than 
a rod from the waiting arms of the sympathizing 
grayback. As it passed, he waded a short distance 
into the water, and stretched forth his musket 
to the unhappy voyager. Tom threw down his 
paddle, and sprang with desperate energy to 
obtain a hold upon the gun. He even succeeded 
in grasping the end of the bayonet. For a mo¬ 
ment he pulled so hard that it was doubtful 
whether the bateau would be hauled ashore, or 
Secesh drawn into the deep water. 

“ Hold on tight, my boy! Pull for your life!” 
shouted the soldier, highly excited by the probable 
success of his philanthropic efforts. 

“ Save me! Save me! ” groaned Tom, as he 
tugged, or seemed to do so, at the bayonet. 


18 8 


The Soldier Boy, or 

Then, while the united exertions of the saver 
and the saved, in anticipation, were on the very 
point of being successful, the polished steel of 
the bayonet unaccountably slipped through the 
fingers of Torn, and the bateau was borne off 
towards the opposite shore. 

“ Save me! Save me/’ cried Tom again, in 
tones more piteous than ever. 

“ What d’ye let go fur?” said the grayback, 
indignantly, as his musket, which he had held 
by the tip end of the stock, dropped into the 
water, when Tom let go of the bayonet. 

The soldier indulged in a volley of peculiarly 
southern oaths, with which we cannot disfigure 
our page, even in deference to the necessity of 
painting a correct picture of the scene we have 
described. Tom had a vein of humor in his com¬ 
position, which has already displayed itself in 
some of the rough experiences of his career; and 
when he saw the rebel soldier deprived of all power 
to make war upon him, either offensive or defen¬ 
sive, he could not resist the temptation to cele¬ 
brate the signal strategical victory he had ob¬ 
tained over the picket guard. This triumphal 
demonstration was not very dignified, nor, under 
the circumstances, very prudent or sensible. It 
consisted in placing the thumb of his right hand 
upon the end of his nose, while he wiggled the 
four remaining digital appendages of the same 
member in the most aggravating manner, whist¬ 
ling Yankee Doodle as an accompaniment to the 
movement. 

If Secesh did not understand the case before, 
he did now; and fishing up his musket, he emptied 


Tom Somers in the Army. 189 

the water out of the barrel, and attempted to fire 
it. Luckily for Tom, the gun would not go off, 
and he swept on his way jubilant and joyous. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 

Tom Somers’s voyage down the Shenandoah 
was, in many respects, a type of human life. 
He experienced the various reverses, the trials 
and hardships, which attend all sojourners here 
below. He triumphed over all obstacles, and 
when he had completely outwitted the grayback 
who had labored so diligently to save him from his 
impending fate, he was at the zenith of pros¬ 
perity. He had vanquished the last impediment, 
and the lines of the Union army—the haven of 
peace to him—were only a short distance from 
the scene of his victory. 

Prosperity makes men arrogant and reckless, 
and I am sorry to say that it had the same effect 
upon Tom Somers. If he had been content mod¬ 
estly to enjoy the victory he had achieved, it 
would have been wiser and safer for him; but 
when Fortune was kind to him, he mocked her, 
and she turned against him. 

When he had passed out of the reach of the 
rebel soldier, whose musket had been rendered 
useless for the time being, Tom believed that he 
was safe, and that he had fairly escaped from the 
last peril that menaced him on the voyage. But 



190 


The Soldier Boy, or 


he was mistaken; for as the current swept the 
bateau around the bend of the river, he discovered, 
to his astonishment and chagrin, the two secesh 
soldiers, who had left the picket post some time 
before, standing at convenient distances from 
each other and from the shore, in the water, ready 
to rescue him from the fate before him. The 
place they had chosen was evidently a ford of the 
river, where they intended to check the boat in 
its mad career down the stream. They were 
painfully persistent in their kind intentions to 
save him from the horrible Yankees, and Tom 
wished they had been less humane and less en¬ 
thusiastic in his cause. 

As soon as Tom perceived this trap, he re* 
gretted his imprudence in betraying himself to 
the soldier from whom he had just escaped. His 
sorrow was not diminished, when, a few minutes 
later, he heard the shouts of the third soldier, who, 
by hard running across the fields, had reached 
the ford before him. 

“Shoot him! Shoot him! He’s a Y r ankee!” 
bellowed the grayback on the shore. 

Tom was appalled at these words, and wondered 
how the soldier could have found out that he was 
a Yankee; but when he recalled the fact that he 
had entertained him with Yankee Doodle at their 
last meeting, the mystery became less formidable. 

“ Shoot him! He’s a Yankee! ” shouted Secesh 
on the bank of the stream. 

“ We’ve left our guns on shore,” replied Secesh 
in the water. 

“ I’m very much obliged to you for that,” said 
Tom to himself, as he grasped his paddle, and 


Tom Somers in the Army. 191 

set the boat over towards the right bank of the 
river. 

No doubt the rebels in the water, when they 
saw with what facility the boatman moved the 
bateau in the swift tide, as compared with his 
futile efforts farther up the stream, were fully 
satisfied of the truth of their companion’s asser¬ 
tion. Tom decided to run the gauntlet between 
the right bank and the soldier nearest to that 
shore. He paddled the bateau with all his vigor, 
until he had obtained the desired position. 

The graybacks in the water, realizing that they 
were engaged on an errand of peace and humanity, 
had left their muskets on shore. They were, 
therefore, comparatively harmless; but the one 
on shore had reached the ford, and picking up 
one of the muskets of his companions, without 
threat or warning, fired. It was ‘lucky for Tom 
that he was not a Tennessee sharpshooter, nor 
a Texas ranger, for the shot passed harmlessly 
over him. The soldier dropped the gun, and 
picked up the other, which he instantly dis¬ 
charged, and with better aim than before, for the 
ball struck the bateau, though not within four 
feet of where Tom stood. 

“ Don’t waste your powder, if you can’t shoot 
better than that,” shouted one of the soldiers in 
the water. “ You’ll hit us next.” 

“ Stop him, then! Stop him! ” replied the 
gravback on the shore. “ Kill him if you can.” 

Tom was paddling with all his might to pass 
the ford before the soldier nearest to him should 
reach a position in which he could intercept the 
boat. The rebel was an enterprising fellow, and 


192 


The Soldier Boy, or 


the soldier boy’s chances were growing amazingly 
small. Secesh had actually reached a place where 
he could make a dash at the boat. There he 
stood with a long bowie-knife between his teeth, 
and with both hands outstretched, ready to seize 
upon the unfortunate bark. He looked grim and 
ferocious, and Tom saw that he was thoroughly 
in earnest. 

It was a trying situation for a boy of Tom’s 
years, and he would fain have dodged the issue. 
That bowie-knife had a wicked look, though it 
was mild and tame compared with the savage 
eye of the rebel who held it. As it was a case 
of life and death, the fugitive braced himself up 
to meet the shock. Taking his position in the 
stern of the boat, he held the paddle in his left 
hand, while his right firmly grasped his revolver. 
It was either “ kill or be killed,” and Tom was 
not so sentimental as to choose the latter rather 
than the former, especially as his intended vic¬ 
tim was a secessionist and a rebel. 

“ Keep off, or you are a dead man,” shouted 
Tom, as he flourished his pistol so that his assail¬ 
ant could obtain a fair view of its calibre, and 
in the hope that the fellow would be willing to 
adopt a politician’s expedient, and compromise 
the matter by retiring out of range. 

“ Tew kin play at that game. This vere tooth¬ 
pick will wipe you out,” coolly replied the fellow, 
as he made a spring at the boat. 

“ Stand off! ” screamed Tom, as he raised the 
pistol, and fired. 

It was a short range, and Tom would have been 
inexcusable if he had missed his aim. The rebel 


*93 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

struck his chest with his right hand, and the 
bowie knife dropped from his teeth; but with 
his left hand he had grasped the gunwale of the 
boat, and as he sunk down in the shallow water, 
he pulled the bateau over on one side till the 
water poured in, and threatened to swamp her. 
Fortunately the wounded man relaxed his hold, 
the boat righted, and Tom commenced paddling 
again with all his strength and skill. 

The other soldier in the water, as soon as he 
discovered where Tom intended to pass, hastened 
over to assist his associate. The shouts of their 
companion on shore had fully fired their southern 
hearts, and both of them were ten times as zealous 
to kill or capture a Yankee, as they had been to 
save a Virginian. When the wounded man 
clutched the boat, the other was not more than 
ten feet from him, but farther down the stream. 
His associate fell, and he sprang forward to eu- 
gage in the affray. 

“ Stand off, or you are a dead man! ” yelled 
Tom, with emphasis, as he plied his paddle with 
renewed energy, for he saw that the man could 
not reach him. 

The bateau passed them both, and Tom began 
to breathe easier. The second rebel, finding he 
could not capture or kill the detested Yankee, 
went to the assistance of his companion. The 
soldier boy suspended his exertions, for the dan¬ 
ger seemed to be over, and gazed with interest 
upon the scene which was transpiring in the 
water just above him. He was anxious to know 
whether he had killed the rebel or not. There 
was something awful in the circumstances, for 


194 The Soldier Boy, or 

the soldier boy’s sensibilities were too acute to 
permit him to take a human life, though it was 
that of an enemy, without producing a deep im¬ 
pression upon his mind. Perhaps, in the great 
battle in which he had been a participant, he had 
killed several rebels; if he had done so, he had 
not seen them fall. This was the first man he had 
consciously killed or wounded, and the fact was 
solemn, if not appalling, to the young soldier. 

As the rebel raised his companion from the 
water he seemed to be dead, and Tom was forced 
to the conclusion that he had killed him. He 
had done the deed in self-defence, and in the strict 
line of duty. He could not be blamed even by 
his enemies for the act. He felt no exultation, 
and hoped from the bottom of his heart that the 
man was prepared to meet his Maker, into whose 
presence he had been so suddenly summoned. 

Tom had heard the boys in Pinchbrook talk 
lightly about killing rebels, and he had talked 
so himself; but the reality was not so pleasant 
as it had seemed at a distance. He was sorry 
for the poor fellow, and wished he had not been 
obliged to kill him. It was terrible to him, 
even in battle, to take a human life, to slay 
a being created in the image of God, and for 
whom Christ lived and died- 

While he was indulging in these sad reflections, 
he heard a bullet whistle near his head. The 
Secesh soldier on the shore had loaded up his 
companions’ muskets, and was doing his best 
to bring down the lucky fugitive. His last shot 
was not a bad one, and Tom could not help think¬ 
ing, if the grayback should hit him, that he would 


*95 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

not waste any fine feelings over him. He did not 
like the sound of those whizzing bullets, and as 
he had never boasted of his courage, he did not 
scorn to adopt precautionary measures. The 
water was three inches deep in the bottom of the 
bateau; but Tom deemed it prudent to lie down 
there until the current should bear him out of 
the reach of the rebel bullets. 

He maintained this recumbent posture for half 
an hour or more, listening to the balls that fre¬ 
quently whistled over his head. Once he ven¬ 
tured to raise his head, and discovered, not one 
man, but a dozen, on the shore, which accounted 
for the rapid firing he heard. When he looked 
up again, his bateau had passed round a bend, 
and he was no longer exposed to the fire of the 
enemy. 

From his heart Tom thanked God for his es¬ 
cape. He was religiously grateful for the aid 
which Providence had rendered him, and when he 
thought how near he had stood to the brink of 
destruction, he realized how narrow the span 
between the Here and the Hereafter. And the 
moral of his reflections was, that if he stood so 
near to the open gate of death, he ought always 
to live wisely and well, and ever be prepared to 
pass the portals which separate time from eter¬ 
nity. 

Tom’s thoughts were sad and heavy. He could 
not banish from his mind the face of the rebel, 
as he raised his hand to his breast, where he had 
received his mortal wound. That countenance, 
full of hate and revenge, haunted him for weeks 
afterwards, in the solitude of his tent, and on his 
midnight vigils as a sentinel. 


196 The Soldier Boy, or 

As he sat in the boat, thinking of the events 
of the morning, and listening to the mournful 
rippling of the waters, which, to his subdued 
soul, sounded like the requiem of his victim, he 
was challenged from the shore again. 

“ Who comes there! ” 

Tom jumped up, and saw a sentinel on the 
bank pointing his gun at him. He surveyed the 
form with anxious interest; but this time he had 
nothing to fear, for the soldier wore the blue 
uniform of the United States army. 

“ Friend/’ replied he, as he grasped his paddle. 

“ Come ashore, or I’ll put a bullet through you,” 
added the sentinel. 

“ Don’t do it! ” said Tom, with energy. “ Can’t 
you see the colors I wear.” 

“ Come ashore, then.” 

“ I will.” 

The soldier boy worked his paddle with vigor 
and skill, and it was astonishing to observe with 
what better success than when invited to land 
by the grayback up the river. The guard assisted 
him in landing and securing his boat. 

“ Who are you ? ” demanded he, as he gazed 
at Tom’s wet and soiled garments. 

“ I was taken prisoner at Bull Run, and came 
back on my own hook.” 

“ Perhaps you were, but you can’t pass these 
lines,” said the soldier. 

Tom was sent to the Federal camp, and passed 
from one officer to another, till lie was finally 
introduced to General Banks, at Harper’s Ferry. 
He was questioned in regard to his own adven¬ 
tures, the country he had passed through, and 


197 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

the troops of the enemy he had seen. When, 
to use his own expression, he had been “ pumped 
dry,” he was permitted to rest a few days, and 
then forwarded to his regiment. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

budd’s ferry. 

Though Tom Somers had been absent from the 
regiment only a fortnight, it seemed to him 
as though a year had elapsed since the day of the 
battle when he had stood shoulder to shoulder 
with his townsmen and friends. He had been 
ordered to report to the provost marshal at Wash¬ 
ington, where he learned that his regiment was 
at Bladensburg, about six miles from the city. 
Being provided with the necessary pass and 
“ transportation,” he soon reached the camp. 

“ Tom Somers ! Tom Somers ! ” shouted sev¬ 
eral of his comrades, as soon as they recognized 
him. 

“ Three cheers for Tom Somers! ” shouted Bob 
Dornton. 

The soldier boy was a favorite in the company, 
and his return was sufficient to justify such a 
proceeding. The cheers, therefore, were given 
with tremendous enthusiasm. 

“ Tom, I’m glad to see you! ” said old Hapgood, 
with extended hand, while his eyes filled with 
tears. “ I was afeared we should never see you 
again.” 



198 The Soldier Boy, or 

The fugitive shook hands with every member of 
the company who was present. Efis reception 
was in the highest degree gratifying to him, and 
he was determined always to merit the good will 
of his companions in arms. 

“ Now, fellows, tell us what the news is,” 
said Tom, as he seated himself on a camp stool 
before the tent of his mess. 

There are letters for you, Tom, in the hands 
of the orderly,” added one of his friends. “ I 
suppose you have got a bigger story to tell than 
any of us, but you shall have a chance to read 
your letters first.” 

These precious missives from the loved ones at 
home were given to him, and the soldier boy 
opened them with fear and trembling, lest he 
should find in them some bad news; but his 
mother and all the family were well. One of them 
was written since the battle, and it was evidently 
penned with deep solicitude for his fate, of which 
nothing had been heard. 

Hapgood, who sat by him while he read his 
letters, assured him that his mother must know, 
by this time, that he was not killed, for all the 
men had written to their friends since the battle. 
The captain who had escaped from Sudlev church 
had reported him alive and well, but he had no 
information in regard to his escape. 

“ We are all well, and every thing goes on about 
the same as usual in Pinchbrook,” wrote one of 
his older sisters. “ John is so bent upon going 
to sea in the navy, that it is as much as mother 
can do to keep him at home. says the country 
wants him, and he wants to go; and what’s more, 


l 99 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

he must go. We haven’t heard a word from 
father since he left home; but Captain Barney 
read in the paper that his vessel had been sunk 
in the harbor of Norfolk to block up the channel. 
We can only hope that he is safe, and pray that 
God will have him in his holy keeping. 

“ Squire Pemberton was dreadful mad be¬ 
cause his son went into the army. He don’t say 
a word about politics now.” 

In a letter from John, he learned that Captain 
Barney had advanced the money to pay the in¬ 
terest on the note, and that Squire Pemberton 
had not said a word about foreclosing the mort¬ 
gage. His brother added that he was determined 
to go into the navy, even if he had to run away. 
He could get good wages, and he thought it was 
a pity that he should not do his share towards 
supporting the family. 

Tom finished his letters, and was rejoiced to 
find that his friends at home were all well and 
happy; and in a few days more, a letter from 
him would gladden their hearts with the intelli¬ 
gence of his safe return to the regiment. 

“All well—ain’t they?” asked Hapgood, as 
Tom folded up the letters and put them in his 
pocket; and the veteran could not fail to see, 
from the happy expression of his countenance, 
that their contents were satisfactory. 

“ All well,” replied Tom. “ Where is Fred Pem¬ 
berton? I haven’t seen him yet.” 

“ In the hospital: he’s sick, or thinks he is,” 
answered Hapgood. “ Ben Lethbridge is in the 
guard house. He attempted to run away while 
we were coming over from Shuter’s Hill.” 


200 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“Who were killed, and who were wounded? I 
haven’t heard a word about the affair, you know,” 
asked Tom. 

“ Sergeant Bradford was wounded and taken 
prisoner. Sergeant Brown was hit by a shell, 
but not hurt much. The second lieutenant was 
wounded in the foot, and-” 

A loud laugh from the men interrupted the 
statement. 

“What are you laughing at?” demanded Tom. 

“ He resigned,” added Bob Dornton, chuckling. 

“You said he was wounded?” 

“ I didn’t say so; the lieutenant said so himself, 
and hobbled about with a big cane for a week; 
but as soon as his resignation was accepted, he 
threw away his stick, and walked as well as ever 
he could.” 

The boys all laughed heartily, and seemed tb 
enjoy the joke prodigiously. Tom thought it was 
a remarkable cure, though the remedy was one 
which no decent man would be willing to adopt. 

“ How’s Captain Benson? ” 

“He’s better; he felt awful bad because he 
wasn’t in that battle. The colonel has gone 
home, sick. He has more pluck than body. He 
was sun-struck, and dropped off his horse, like 
a dead man, on the field. It’s a great pity he 
hasn’t twice or three times as much body; if 
he had, he’d make a first-rate officer.” 

It was now Tom’s turn to relate his adventures; 
and he modestly told his story. His auditors were 
deeply interested in his narrative, and when he 
had finished, it was unanimously voted that Tom 
was a “trump; ” which I suppose means nothing 



201 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

more than that he was a smart fellow—a position 
which no one who has read his adventures will 
be disposed to controvert. 

A long period of comparative inactivity for the 
regiment followed the battle of Bull Run. Gen¬ 
eral McClellan had been called from the scene of 
his brilliant operations in Western Virginia, to 
command the army of the Potomac, and he was 
engaged in the arduous task of organizing the 
vast body of loyal troops that rushed forward 
to sustain the government in this dark hour 
of peril. 

While at Bladensburg the —th regiment with 
three others were formed into a brigade, the com¬ 
mand of which was given to Hooker—a name then 
unknown beyond the circle of his own friends. 

About the first of November the brigade was 
sent to Budd’s Ferry, thirty miles below Wash¬ 
ington, on the Potomac, to watch the rebels in 
that vicinity. The enemy had, by this time, closed 
the river against the passage of vessels to the 
capital, by erecting batteries at various places, 
the principal of which were at Evansport, Ship¬ 
ping Point, and Cockpit Point. Budd’s Ferry 
was a position in the vicinity of these works, 
and the brigade was employed in picketing the 
river, to prevent the enemy on the other side from 
approaching, and also to arrest the operations 
of the viler traitors on this side, who were at¬ 
tempting to send supplies to the rebels. 

It was not a very exciting life to which the 
boys of our regiment were introduced on their 
arrival at Budd’s Ferry, though the rebel bat¬ 
teries at Shipping Point made a great deal of 


202 


The Soldier Boy, or 

noise and smoke at times. As the season ad¬ 
vanced the weather began to grow colder, and 
the soldiers were called to a new experience in 
military life; but as they were gradually inured 
to the diminishing temperature, the hardship was 
less severe than those who gather around their 
northern fireside may be disposed to imagine. 
Tom continued to be a philosopher, which was 
better than an extra blanket; and he got along 
very well. 

It was a dark, cold, and windy night, in De¬ 
cember, when Tom found himself doing picket 
duty near the mouth of Chickamoxon Creek. No¬ 
body supposed that any rebel sympathizer would 
be mad enough to attempt the passage of the 
river dn such a night as that, for the Potomac 
looked alive with the angry waves that beat 
upon its broad bosom. Hapgood and Fred Pem¬ 
berton were with him, and the party did the best 
they could to keep themselves comfortable, and 
at the same time discharge the duty assigned 
to them. 

“ Here, lads,” said old Hapgood, who, closely 
muffled in his great-coat, was walking up and 
down the bank of the creek to keep the blood 
warm in his veins. 

“ What is it, Hapgood?” demanded Fred, who 
was coiled up on the lee side of a tree, to protect 
him from the cold blast that swept down the 
creek. 

“ Hush! ” said Hapgood. “ Don’t make a 
noise; there’s a boat coming. Down! down! 
Don’t let them see you.” 

Tom and Fred crawled upon the ground to the 


Tom Somers in the Army, 203 

verge of the creek, and placed themselves by the 
side of the veteran. 

“ I don’t see any boat,” said Tom. 

“ I can see her plain enough, with my old eyes. 
Look up the creek.” 

“ Ay, ay! I see her.” 

“ So do I,” added Fred. “ What shall we do? ” 

“ Stop her, of course,” replied Tom. 

“ That’s easy enough said, but not so easily 
done. We had better send word up to the bat¬ 
tery, and let them open upon her,” suggested 
Fred. 

“ Open upon the man in the moon! ” replied 
Tom, contemptuously. “ Don’t you see she is 
under sail, and driving down like sixty? We 
must board her! ” 

Tom spoke in an emphatic whisper, and pointed 
to a small boat, which lay upon the shore. The 
craft approaching was a small schooner ap¬ 
parently about live tons burden. The secession¬ 
ists of Baltimore or elsewhere had chosen this 
dark and tempestuous night to send ov°r a mail 
and such supplies as could not be obu'n^d, for 
love or money, on the other side of the Potomac. 
Of course, they expected to run the risk of a 
few shots from the Union pickets on the river; 
but on such a night, and in such a sea, there 
was very little danger of their hitting the mark. 

Up the creek the water was comparatively 
smooth; but the little schooner was driving furi¬ 
ously down the stream, with the wind on her 
quarter, and the chances of making a safe and 
profitable run to the rebel line, those on board, 
no doubt, believed were all in their favor. 


204 The Soldier Boy, or 

“ We have no time to lose,” said Hapgood, 
with energy, as he pushed off the boat, which 
lay upon the beach. “ Tumble in lively, and be 
sure your guns are in good order.” 

“ Mine is all right,” added Tom, as he examined 
the cap.on his musket, and then jumped into 
the boat. 

“ So is mine,” said Fred; “ but I don’t much 
like this business. Do you know how many men 
there are in the schooner?” 

“ Don’t know, and don’t care,” replied Tom. 

“ Of course they are armed. They have revol¬ 
vers, I’ll bet my month’s pay.” 

“ If you don’t want to go, stay on shore,” an¬ 
swered Hapgood, petulantly. “ But don’t make 
a noise about it.” 

“ Of course I’ll go, but I think we are getting 
into a bad scrape.” 

Tom and Hapgood held a hurried consultation, 
which ended in the former’s taking a position 
in the bow of the boat, while the other two took 
their places at the oars. The muskets were laid 
across the thwarts, and the rowers pulled out 
to the middle of the creek, just in season to in¬ 
tercept the schooner. Of course they were seen 
by the men on board of her, who attempted to 
avoid them. 

“ Hallo!” said Tom, in a kind of confidential 
tone. “ On board the schooner there! Are you 
going over? ” 

“Yes. What do you want?” answered one of 
the men on board the vessel. 

“ We want to get over, and are afraid to go 
in this boat. Won’t you take us over?” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 205 

“ Who are you ? ” 

“ Friends. We’ve got a mail bag.” 

“ Where did you get it?” 

“ In Washington.” 

By this time, the schooner had luffed up into 
the wind, and Tom directed his companions to 
pull again. In a moment the boat was along¬ 
side the schooner, and the soldier boy was about 
to jump upon her half-deck, when the rebel crew, 
very naturally, ordered him to wait till they had 
satisfied themselves in regard to his secession 
proclivities. 

There were five men in the schooner, all of 
whom were seated near the stern. Tom did not 
heed the protest of the traitors, but sprang on 
board the schooner, followed by his companions. 

“ Now, tell us who you are before you come 
any farther,” said one of the men. 

“ Massachusetts soldiers! Surrender, or you 
are a dead man,’ replied Tom, pointing his gun. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

IN THE HOSPITAL. 

The night was very dark, so that the rebels 
in the boat could not distinguish the uniform 
of those who had applied for a passage on the 
schooner. Perhaps Tom Somers’s experience in 
the Blue Ridge and on the Shenandoah had im¬ 
proved his stragetic ability, so that his words 
and his manner seemed plausible. But as strat* 



The Soldier Boy, or 

egy and cunning owe their success to the 

comparative stupidity of the victims, Tom and his 
companions gained the half-deck of the schooner 
more by the palpable blundering of her crew than 
through the brilliancy of their own scheme. 

Tom did not stop, in the midst of the exciting 
enterprise, to determine the particular reason of 
his success, as we, his humble biographer, have 
done. He was on the enemy’s ground, and con¬ 
fronting the enemy’s forces, and logic was as 
much out of place as rebellion in a free repub¬ 
lican country. He was closely followed by Hap- 
good, and at a later period by Fred Pember¬ 
ton. The nerves of the latter were not remark¬ 
ably steady, and as he stepped on board the 
schooner, he neglected to take the painter with 
him; and the consequence was, that the boat 
went adrift. It is good generalship to keep the 
line of retreat open; and Fred’s neglect had 
deprived them of all means of retiring from the 
scene of action. The only alternative was to 
fight their way through, and find safety in success. 

To Tom’s reply, that the party were Massa¬ 
chusetts soldiers, the rebel who had acted as 
spokesman for the crew, uttered a volley of oaths, 
expressive of his indignation and disgust at the 
sudden check which had been given to their pros¬ 
perous voyage. 

“ Surrender! ” repeated Tom, in energetic tones. 

Two of the rebels at the stern discharged their 
pistols in answer to the summons—a piece of 
impudence which our Massachusetts soldiers could 
not tolerate; and they returned the fire. The se¬ 
cessionists evidently carried revolvers; and a turn 


Tom Somers in the Army. 207 

of the barrel enabled them to fire a second vol¬ 
ley, which the soldiers were unable to do, for 
they had no time to load their guns. 

“ O ! ” groaned Fred, as he sunk down upon 
the half-deck. “ I’m hit.” 

“ We can’t stand this, Hapgood,” said Tom. 
fiercely, as he leaped into the midst of the party 
in the standing room. “ Let’s give them the bayo¬ 
net.” 

“ Give it to ’em, Tom! ” replied the veteran, 
as he placed himself by the side of his young com¬ 
panion. 

“ Will you surrender?” demanded Tom, as iie 
thrust vigorously with his bayonet. 

“ We surrender,” replied.one of the men; but 
it was not the one who had spoken before, for 
he had dropped off his seat upon the bottom of 
the boat. 

“ Give up your pistols, then,” added Hapgood. 
“ You look out for the boat, Tom, and I will take 
care of these fellows.” 

Tom sprang to the position which had been 
occupied by the spokesman of the party, and 
grasping the foresheet and the tiller of the boat, 
he soon brought her up to the wind. Seating 
himself in the stern, he assumed the management 
of the schooner, while Hapgood busied himself 
in taking the pistols from the hands of the rebels, 
and exploring their pockets, in search of other 
dangerous weapons. 

“How are you, Fred?” shouted Tom, when the 
pressing business of the moment had been dis¬ 
posed of. “Are you much hurt?” 

“ I’m afraid my time’s most up,” replied he, 
faintly. 


208 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Where are you hit ? ’’ 

“ In the face; the ball went through my head, 
I suppose,” he added, in tones that were hardly 
audible, in the warring of the December blast. 

“ Keep up a good heart, Fred, and we will soon 
be ashore. Have you got an easy place?” 

“ No, the water dashes over me.” 

“ Can’t you move him aft, Hapgood?” 

“ Pretty soon; when I get these fellows fixed,” 
replied the veteran, who had cut the rope nearest 
to his hands, and was securing the arms of the 
prisoners behind them. 

There is no fear of them now. We have got 
two revolvers apiece, and we can have it all our 
own way, if they show fight.” 

But Hapgood had bound the rebels by this 
time, and with tender care he lifted his wounded 
companion down into the standing room, and 
made him as comfortable as the circumstances 
would permit. 

“ Now, where are we, Hapgood?” asked Tom, 
who had been vainly peering ahead to discover 
some familiar object by which to steer. I can’t 
see the first thing.” 

“ I don’t know where we are,” replied Hap¬ 
good. “ I never was much of a sailor, and I 
leave the navigating all to you.” 

“ I can navigate well enough, if I knew where 
we were,” added Tom, who had thus far been 
utterly unable to ascertain the “ ship’s position.” 

During the brief struggle for the possession 
of the schooner, she had drifted some distance, 
which had caused the new commander to lose 
his bearings. The shore they had just left had 


Tom Somers in the Army. 209 

disappeared, as though it had been swallowed up 
bv an earthquake. No lights were allowed on 
shore, where they could be seen from the river, 
for they afforded so many targets to the artil¬ 
lerymen in the rebel batteries. The more Toro 
tried to discover a familiar object to steer by, 
the more it seemed as though the land and every¬ 
thing else had been cut adrift, and emigrated to 
foreign parts. Those who have been in a boat 
in a very dark night, or in a dense fog, will be 
able to appreciate the bewilderment of the skip¬ 
per of the captured schooner. 

“ Look out, Tom, that you don’t run us into 
some of those rebel batteries,” said Hapgood, 
after he had watched the rapid progress of the 
boat for a few moments. “ A shot from a thirty- 
two pounder would be a pill we couldn’t swal¬ 
low.” 

“ No danger of that, Hapgood,” answered Tom, 
confidently. 

“ I don’t know about that, my boy,” answered 
the veteran, in a tone heavy with dire anxiety. 

“ I know it. The schooner was running with 
the wind on her starboard quarter when we 
boarded her. We are now close-hauled, and of 
course we can’t make the shore on the other side 
while we are on this tack.” 

Well, I don’t know much about it, Tom, but if 
you say its all right, I’m satisfied; that’ all. 
I’d trust you just as far as I would General 
McClennon, and you know we all b’lieve in him.” 

“ What are you going to do with us?” asked 
one of the rebels, who began to exhibit some in¬ 
terest in the fate of the schooner. 


210 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ I suppose you will find good quarters in 
Fort McHenry,” replied Tom. “ Where do you 
belong? ” 

“ In Baltimore.” 

“ What are you doing here, then?” 

“ We go in for the South.” 

“ Go in, then! ” added Tom, laughing. 

“ You’ll fetch up where all the rest of ’em 
do,” said Hapgood. 

“ How’s that fellow that was hit? ” asked Tom, 
pointing to the rebel who lay in the middle of 
the standing room. 

“ I guess it’s all right w T ith him,” replied Hap¬ 
good, bending over the silent form. “No; he 
isn’t dead.” 

“ I have it! ” shouted Tom, suddenly crowding 
the helm hard-a-lee. 

“What, Tom?” 

“ I see where we are. We are running up the 
river. I see the land on the weather bow.” 

The schooner was put about, and after run¬ 
ning with the wind amidships for ten or fifteen 
minutes, Tom discovered the outline of Mrs. 
Budd’s house, which was directly under the guns 
of the Union battery. 

“ Stand by the fore halliards, Hapgood,” said 
Tom, as the boat came about again. “ Let go! ” 

The foresail came down, and Tom sprang upon 
the pier, as the schooner came up under its lee. 
In a moment the boat was made fast. By this 
time the pickets appeared. 

“Who comes there?” demanded the soldier. 

“ Friends! ” replied Tom. 

“ Advance, friend, and give the countersign.” 


21 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ Little Mac,” whispered the soldier boy in the 
ear of the sentinel. 

“ Who are you ? ” 

“ Co. K.” answered Tom. 

“ What’s the row? The long roll was beat 
just now, and the whole regiment is in line. 
What was that firing? ” 

“ We have captured this boat, and five pris¬ 
oners, one of them wounded, if not dead.” 

“ Bully for you,” replied the picket. 

They were soon joined by a squad of men, and 
Fred Pemberton and the wounded rebel were 
conveyed to the hospital, while the four prisoners 
were conducted to a secure place. Hapgood and 
Tom then hastened to the parade, where the 
regiment was drawn up, and reported the events 
which had just transpired. It was unanimously 
voted by officers and privates that the picket 
guard had done “ a big thing,” and they were 
warmly and generously commended for their 
skill and bravery. 

Hapgood and Tom requested permission to go 
to the hospital and see their companion. They 
found that the surgeon had already dressed his 
wound. 

“Will he die?” asked Tom, full of solicitude 
for his friend. 

“Die! no; it’s a mere scratch. The ball 
ploughed into his cheek a little way,” replied 
the surgeon. “ It isn’t a bad wound. He was 
more scared than hurt.” 

“ I am glad it is no worse,” said Captain Ben¬ 
son, who, with fatherly solicitude for his men, 
had come to the hospital as soon as the company 


212 The Soldier Boy, or 

was dismissed. “But what ails you, Tom? You 
look pale.” 

“ Nothing, captain.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ I don’t think I am badly hurt. I believe one 
of those pistol balls grazed my side; but I hardly 
felt it.” 

“ Let me see,” said the surgeon. 

The doctor opened Tom’s coat, and his gray 
shirt was found to be saturated with blood. 

“ That’s a worse wound than Pemberton’s!. 
Didn’t you know it, Tom?” 

“Well, of course I knew it; but I didn’t think 
it was any thing,” replied Tom, apologetically. 
“ I knew it wouldn’t do to drop down, or we 
should all be in Dixie in half an hour.” 

“ You are my man for the present,” said the 
doctor, as he proceeded to a further examination 
of the wound. 

Tom was hit in the side by one of the pistol 
bullets. As I have not the surgeon’s report of 
the case, I cannot give a minute description of 
it; but he comforted Hapgood and the captain 
with the assurance that, though severe, it was 
not a dangerous wound. 

“ Tom Somers, there’s a sergeant’s warrant in 
Company Iv for one of you three men,” said Cap¬ 
tain Benson, when the patient was comfortably 
settled upon his camp bed. “ The colonel told 
me to give him the name of the most deserving 
man in my company.” 

“ Give it to Tom,” said Hapgood, promptly. 
“ He led off in this matter, and eft hadn’t been 
for him, we should all have been on t’other side 


213 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

of the river, and p’raps on t’other side of Jordan, 
afore this time. And then, to think that the poor 
fellow stood by, and handled the boat like a com¬ 
modore, when the life-blood was runnin’ out of 
him all the time! It belongs to Tom.” 

“ Give it to Tom,” added Fred, who lay near 
the patient. 

“ No, Captain Benson,” interposed Tom, fainthy. 
“ Hapgood is an old soldier, and deserves it more 
than I do. Give it to him, and I shall be better 
satisfied than if yon give it to me.” 

“ Tom Somers!” exclaimed old Hapgood, a 
flood of tears sliding down his furrowed cheeks, 
“ I won’t stand nothin’ of the sort! I’d jump 
into the river and drownd myself before I’d take 
it, after what you’ve done.” 

“ You are both worthy of it,” added Captain 
Benson. 

“ Please give it to Hapgood,” pleaded Tom. 
“ He first proposed going out after the little 
schooner.” 

“ Give it to Tom, cap’m. It’ll help heal his 
wound,” said Hapgood. 

“No; it would do me more good to have you 
receive it,” protested Tom. 

“ Well, here, I can’t have this battle fought in 
the hospital,” interposed the surgeon. “ They are 
good friends, captain, and whichever one you 
give it to, the other will be suited. You had 
better settle the case at head-quarters.” 

“ If you please, Captain Benson, I would like 
'to have Hapgood stay with me to-night, if he 
can be spared.” 

The veteran was promptly detailed for hospital 


2I 4 


The Soldier Boy, or 

duty, and the captain returned to his quarters to 
decide the momentous question in regard to the 
sergeant’s warrant. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

TOM IS SENTIMENTAL. 

The little schooner which the picket guard had 
captured was loaded with valuable supplies for 
the rebels, which of course were confiscated 
without ceremony. The mail bag which was on 
board contained a great many letters from trai¬ 
tors in Baltimore, some of whom were exposed by 
the capture of their treasonable correspondence. 

Tom’s wound proved to be more serious than 
even the surgeon had anticipated; but the best 
care which it was possible to give in a military 
hospital was bestowed upon him. Old Hapgood, 
in recognition of his services on that eventful 
night, was permitted to be near the patient as 
much as the interests of the service would per¬ 
mit; and the old man was happy when seated by 
the rude couch of the soldier boy, ministering to 
his necessities, or cheering him with bright hopes 
of the future. A strong friendship had grown up 
between them, for Tom’s kind heart and brave 
conduct produced a deep impression upon the old 
man. 

“ Here, Tom,” said Captain Benson, as he ap¬ 
proached the sufferer, a few days after he entered 
the hospital, and laid a paper upon the bed. 
“ Here’s a prescription which the colonel says 
you must take.” 



Tom Somers in the Army. 215 

* What is it?” asked Tom, with a faint smile. 

“ A sergeant’s warrant.” 

“ Glory, glory, hallelujah, as we go marching 
on! ” exclaimed old Hapgood, jumping up like a 
youth of sixteen, and swinging his cap above his 
head. 

“ Shut up, there! ” shouted the hospital stew* 
ard. “ Don’t you know any better than to make 
such a racket in this place?” 

“I beg pardon, Jameson. I forgot where I 
was,” apologized the veteran. “ The news was so 
good I couldn’t help it. Our Tom is a sergeant 
now! ” 

“ Not yet, Hapgood,” replied Tom, feebly. “ I 
can’t accept it, Captain Benson; it belongs to 
Hapgood, sir, and I shall feel a great deal better 
if you put his name in place of mine.” 

“ Don’t do it, cap’n! ” interposed the old man, 
vehemently. “ Tom shall be a brigadier general 
if the war lasts one year more. I should feel like 
a whipped kitten if that warrant was altered.” 

“ The matter has been fully and fairly con¬ 
sidered at head-quarters, and there is no such 
thing as altering the decision now; so, Tom, you 
can put the stripes on your arm just as soon as 
you please.” 

Hapgood insisted, the surgeon insisted, and the 
captain insisted; and Tom was too sick to hold 
way with them in an argument, and his name was 
placed upon the roster of the company as a ser¬ 
geant. He was proud of the distinction which had 
been conferred upon him, though he thought Hap¬ 
good, as an older and abler soldier, was better en¬ 
titled to the honor than himself. 


2i6 The Soldier Boy, or 

It was six weeks before Tom was able to enter 
upon the actual enjoyment of the well-merited 
promotion which he had won by his gallantry; 
but when lie appeared before the company with 
the chevron of the sergeant upon his arm, he 
was lustily cheered by his comrades, and it was 
evident that the appointment was a very popular 
one. Not even the grumblers, of whom there is 
a full quota in every regiment, deemed it pru¬ 
dent to growl at the decision of the officers. If 
any one ventured to suggest that he was too 
young to be placed over older and stronger men, 
liis friends 'replied, that men in the army were 
measured by bravery and skill, not by years. 

If my young readers wish to know why Tom’s 
appointment was so well received by his compan¬ 
ions in arms, I can only reply, that he had not 
only been brave and cheerful in the midst of peril 
and hardship, but he was kind and obliging to 
his comrades. He had always been willing to 
help those that needed help, to sympathize with 
those in trouble, and generally to do all he could 
to render those around him happy. 

Above all these considerations, Tom was a 
young man of high principle. He had obeyed 
his mother’s parting injunction, often repeated 
in the letters which came to him from home, and 
had faithfully “ read his Testament.” Without 
being a hypocrite or a canting saint, Tom carried 
about with him the true elements of Christian 
character. 

Tom had fought a greater battle than that in 
which he had been engaged at Bull Run a hun¬ 
dred times, in resisting the temptations which 


217 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

beset him from within and without. True to 
God and true to himself, he had won the victory. 
Though his lot was cast in the midst of men who 
swore, gambled, and drank liquor, he had shunned 
these vices, and loved the sinner while he hated 
the sin. Such a person could not fail to win the 
respect of his companions. Though he had been 
jeered at and insulted for being sober, honest, 
and pious, he had fought down and lived down 
all these vilifiers, and won their esteem. 

It must be acknowledged that Tom’s piety was 
of the robust type. He would not allow any man 
to insult him; and after the chastisement he had 
given Ben Lethbridge, not even those who were 
strong enough to whip him were disposed to tres¬ 
pass upon his rights and dignity. Perhaps Tom’s 
creed needed a little revising; but he lived under 
martial law, which does not take cognizance of 
insults and revilings. He was willing to be smit¬ 
ten on the one cheek, and on the other also, for 
the good of his country, or even his friends, but 
not to be wantonly insulted. 

The influence of Tom’s principles was not con¬ 
fined to himself, for “ a little leaven leaveneth 
the whole lump.” This was particularly true of 
Hapgood, who, more through Tom’s preaching 
and practice than from any strength in his own 
character, had steadily maintained his purpose 
to abstain from intoxicating drinks, though oc¬ 
casional opportunities were presented for the in¬ 
dulgence of his darling vice. Tom and he read 
the Testament and other good books which were 
sent to the regiment, and both profited by them. 

When the soldier boy was discharged from the 


21 8 


The Soldier Boy, or 


hospital, the surgeon gave him a pair of woolen 
socks, from a case of them which had been sent 
by the friends of the soldier in Boston and its 
vicinity. He was very much in need of them, 
and from the depths of his heart he blessed the 
ladies who had done this good work. He unrolled 
the socks, and proceeded to pull one of them on. 
It was as good a fit as though his mother had knit 
it on purpose for him. 

“ God bless the lady that knit these socks! ” 
exclaimed Tom, as he began to draw on the other. 

“ Amen! ” replied Hapgood, who was watching 
the operation in full sympathy with his protege . 

u Eh! what’s this?” added Tom, for his foot 
had met with an obstruction in its passage down 
the leg. 

He pulled off the sock, and thrusting his hand 
into it, took therefrom a letter enclosed in an 
envelope. 

“ See that, uncle? ” said he, exhibiting the prize. 

“What is it, Tom? Open it quick,” replied 
Hapgood. 

The soldier boy broke the envelope, and took 
from it a note enclosing a photograph. Tom 
looked at the picture with a feeling of pleasure, 
which would have caused the original of the minia¬ 
ture, the author of the note, and the author of 
the socks, to blush up to her eyes if she had be¬ 
held the expression of admiration which glowed 
upon the handsome, manly face of the young ser¬ 
geant. 

“By all that’s lovely, isn’t she a beauty!” ex¬ 
claimed Tom, rapturously, as he glanced from 
the picture to Hapgood, who was looking over his 
shoulder. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 219 

“ She’s hahnsome, and no mistake ” replied the 
veteran, with a grim smile. 

“ Well, she is! ” added Tom, whose eyes were 
riveted to the photograph. 

“Well, why don't you read the letter, Tom?” 
demanded the old soldier, after the young man 
had gazed with blushing cheek upon the sweet 
face of the author of his socks for full five min¬ 
utes. 

“I guess I will,” said Tom; but he did not; 
for the picture seemed to be glory and beauty 
enough to satisfy him for the present. 

“ Read the letter, Tom! ” shouted the veteran, 
after he had waited as long as the nature of the 
case seemed to require. 

The soldier boy carefully placed the photo¬ 
graph in the envelope, and unfolded the letter. 
It was written in a beautiful hand, which looked 
as soft and delicate as the fair fingers which had 
penned the lines. He glanced at it as a whole, 
admired the penmanship, and the fairy-like sym¬ 
metry that make up the tout-ensemble of the 
page, and was about to dissolve into another 
rhapsody, when Hapgood, who was not half so 
sentimental as the sergeant, became impatient to 
know the contents of the missive. Tom read it 
aloud to the stoical veteran; and though we can¬ 
not clothe its sweet words in the fairy chirog- 
raphy which transported our hero, and made the 
letter a dream of bliss to him, we shall venture to 
present it to our curious readers, stiffened and 
hardened into the dull, cold forms of the printer’s 
art 


220 The Soldier Boy, or 

No.—, Rutland Street, Boston, Nov. 5,1861. 
My Dear Soldier :— 

This is the first pair of socks I ever knit; and 
I send them to you with my blessing upon the 
brave defenders of my country. I hope they will 
keep your feet warm, and thus keep your heart 
warm towards God and our blessed land. 

Grandma says I am a silly girl, and I suppose 
I am; but if you feel half as much interest in me 
as I do in the person who will wear the first pair 
of socks I ever knit, you will wish to know how 
I look; therefore T send you my photograph. 

I very much desire to know whether my work 
has done any good; whether my socks are ever 
worn in a battle; and most of all, I desire to know 
how the noble fellow looks that wears them. 
Therefore T beg you to answer my letter, and also 
to send me your photograph, if you can conven¬ 
iently. 

Now, my dear soldier, be brave and true, and, 
above all, do not run away from the rebels with 
my socks on your feet. You may retreat when 
your officers order you to retire; but if you are 
a coward, and find yourself compelled to run 
away, please pull them off before you do so, for 
T should die with mortification if I thought I 
had knit a pair of socks for a Union soldier to 
run away in. 

Truly yours, for our flag and our country. 

Lilian Ashford. 

"Well, if that gal ain’t a trump, then there 
ain’t no snakes in Virginny! ” exclaimed Hap- 


Tom Somers in the Army. 221 

good. “ She’s got the true grit, and no mis¬ 
take.” 

“ That’s so/’ replied the recipient of the gift, 
thoughtfully, as he bent down, and began to pull 
off the sock which encased his left foot. 

“What are you doing?” demanded Hapgood, 
surprised at this new movement of his companion. 

“ I can’t wear these socks yet, uncle,” re¬ 
plied he. 

“Why not?” 

Don’t she say she wants them worn in a 
battle? ” 

“ Tom, you are a little fool! ” added the veteran, 
petulantly. “ Are you going with cold feet just 
to please a silly gal, whose head is as full of 
moonshine as an egg is of meat. Put on the socks, 
and keep your feet warm. If you don’t, I’ll write 
to her, and tell what a fool you are.” 

Tom did put them on, but he could not help 
feeling that uncle Hapgood, as he was familiarly 
called in the camp, did not understand and appre¬ 
ciate his sentiments. The socks seemed to be too 
precious to be worn in the vulgar mud of Mary¬ 
land. To him there was something ethereal about 
them, and it looked a little like profanation to put 
any thing emanating from the fairy fingers of 
the original of that photograph, and the author 
of that letter, upon his feet. 

“ Now you act like a sensible fellow, as you 
are, Tom,” said Hapgood, as the sergeant put on 
his army brogans. 

“ Well, uncle, one thing is certain: I never will 
run away from the rebels with these socks on,” 
added Tom, with a rich glow of enthusiasm. 


222 


The Soldier Boy, or 


“ If Gen’l McClennon don’t stir his stumps 
pretty soon, you’ll wear ’em out afore you git a 
chance to run away.” 

Tom, almost for the first time since he had been 
in the army, wanted to be alone. With those 
socks on, it seemed just as though he was walk¬ 
ing the streets of the New Jerusalem, with heaven 
and stacks of silver-fringed and golden-tinged 
clouds beneath his feet, buried up to the eyes in 
floods of liquid moonshine. 

If “ grandma ” really thought that Lilian Ash¬ 
ford was a silly girl, and if Lilian really supposed 
so herself, it must be added, in justification of her 
conduct, that she had given the soldier boy a new 
incentive to do his duty nobly, and kindled in his 
soul a holy aspiration to serve God and his coun¬ 
try with renewed zeal and fidelity. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


THE CONFEDERATE DESERTER. 

While Tom was in the hospital, he received 
a letter from his sister, informing him that his 
brother John had actually entered the navy, and 
with his mother’s consent. The news from" home 
was so favorable, that the soldier boy was pleased 
to hear that Jack had realized his darling wish, 
and that he was now in his element. 

Intelligence from home, accompanied with let¬ 
ters, papers, books, comforts, and luxuries of vari¬ 
ous kinds, reached him every two or three weeks; 
and when the news went back that Tom had been 



Tom Somers in the Army. 223 

made a sergeant for gallant conduct, there was a 
great sensation in Pinchbrook. The letters which 
reached him after the receipt of this gratifying 
announcement contained all the gossip of the 
place in regard to the important event. Of coure, 
Tom was delighted by these letters, and was more 
than ever determined to be diligent and faithful 
in the discharge of his duties, and never to dis¬ 
grace the name he bore. He was confident his 
friends would never have occasion to blush for 
his conduct—including the original of the photo¬ 
graph, the author of the letter and of the socks. 

Tom recovered from the effects of his wound, as 
we have before intimated, and took his place in 
the regimental line as a sergeant. January and 
February passed away without any very stirring 
events; but in the month of March came indica¬ 
tions of activity. The rebels began to draw in 
their lines, by abandoning various points, till the 
nation was startled by the evacuation of their 
strongly fortified position at Manassas, and the 
forts in front of Budd’s Ferry were suddenly left 
for the occupation of the Federal troops. 

Hooker’s men crossed the Potomac, and Tom 
was once more on the sacred soil of Virginia. 
Skirmishers were sent out in various directions, 
and though a deserted camp, which had been 
hastily abandoned, was found, there were no 
rebels to be seen. The Union boys were not dis¬ 
posed to leave their investigations at this interest¬ 
ing point, and they pursued their way still farther 
into the country. Somehow or other, Tom and his 
party did not receive the order to return, and the 
enterprising young hero continued his march in 


224 The Soldier Boy, or 

search of further adventures. It was altogether 
too tame for him and the congenial spirits in his 
section to retire without seeing a live rebel or 
two; and I am not sure, if their desire had not 
been gratified, that they would not have pene¬ 
trated to Fredericksburg, and captured that 
citadel of rebellion in advance to General Augur, 
who visited the place in April. 

As it was, they stumbled upon the pickets of a 
rebel force, and as soon as their uniform was 
identified they had the honor of being fired upon, 
though none of them had the honor of being killed 
in the midst of their virtual disobedience of or¬ 
ders. But their appearance created a panic among 
the Confederates, who had no means of knowing 
that they were not the pioneers of a whole divi¬ 
sion of Union troops, for General McClellan had 
removed the spell which bound the loyal army to 
its camps, and corps, divisions, and brigades were 
pushing forward into the dominion of the traitors. 

The alarm was given, and Tom saw that he was 
rushing into a bad scrape; and as prudence is as 
much a requisite of the good soldier as bravery, 
he ordered his men to fall back. Rebels are very 
much like ill-natured curs, ever ready to pursue 
a retreating foe, or run away from an advancing 
one. The Confederates chased them, and as the 
legs of the former seemed to be in remarkably 
good condition, the sergeant came to the conclu¬ 
sion that it would not be safe to run too fast. 

“Halt!” shouted he; and the men promptly 
obeyed the order. 

They discharged their muskets, and then made 
a demonstration towards the enemy, who, obey- 


Tom Somers in the Army. 2 5 

ing their instinct, ran away as fast as their legs 
would carry them. Taking advantage of this 
movement on their part, Tom again ordered a 
retreat. 

“ They are after us again,” said Hapgood. “ I 
hope there ain’t no cavalry within hearing. If 
there is, we may take a journey to Richmond.” 

“ They have stopped to load their guns,” re¬ 
plied Tom. “ We will use our legs now.” 

“ See that, Tom! ” said Hapgood, suddenly. 

“What?” 

“ There’s one of them rushing towards us all 
alone.” 

** He has thrown up his gun. The others are 
yelling to him to come back. What does that 
mean ? ” 

“ He is a deserter; he wants to get away from 
them. There he comes.” 

“ Yes, and there comes the rest of them—the 
whole rebel army—more than a million of them,” 
said Fred Pemberton. “ It’s time for us to be 
going.” 

“See! They are firing at him. Forward!” 
added Tom, leading the way. 

The party rushed forward, for a short distance; 
but the dozen rebels had been reenforced, and it 
was madness to rush into the very teeth of danger. 
Tom ordered his men to halt and fire at will. 
The deserter, probably finding that he was between 
two fires, turned aside from the direct course he 
was pursuing, and sought shelter in the woods. 
The sergeant then directed his men to retire, for 
whether the retreat of the runaway rebel was 
covered or not, it was no longr safe to remain. 


226 The Soldier Boy 3 or 

Fortunately the Confederates were more in 
doubt than the Unionists; and perhaps expect¬ 
ing to fall upon a larger body of the latter, they 
abandoned the pursuit, and returned to their 
posts. Nothing was seen of the deserter for some 
time, and Tom concluded that lie had lost his way 
in the woods, or had missed the direction taken 
by the Federal scouts. 

“He was a plucky fellow, any how,” said one 
of the men, “ to attempt to run away in the very 
face of his companions.” 

“Well, he timed it well, for he started just 
w r hen their guns were all empty,” added another. 

“ I’m not sorry he missed us,” continued Hap- 
good. “ I don’t like a desarter, no how. It goes 
right agin my grain.” 

“ But he was running from the wrong to the 
right side,” replied Tom. 

“ I don’t keer if he was. Them colors on t’other 
side were his’n. He chose ’em for himself, and 
it’s mean to run away from ’em. If a man’s go’n 
to be a rebel, let him be one, and stick to it.” 

“ You don’t know any thing about it, uncle. 
Thousands of men have been forced into the rebel 
army, and I don’t blame them for getting out of 
it the best way they can. I should do so.” 

“ That may be, Tom; that may be,” added the 
veteran, taking off his cap and rubbing his bald 
head, as though a new idea had penetrated it. 
“ I didn’t think of that.” 

“ He’s a brave man, whoever he is, and what¬ 
ever he is.” 

“ He must want to get away from ’em pretty 
bad, or he wouldn’t have run that risk. I 
shouldn’t wonder if they hit him.” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 227 

“ Perhaps he is wounded, and gone into the 
woods there to die,” suggested Tom. 

“ Halloo!” shouted some one in the rear of 
them. 

“ There’s your man,” said Hapgood. 

“ Halloo!” cried the same voice. 

“ Halloo, yourself!” shouted Hapgood in reply 
to the hail. 

The party halted, and after waiting a few 
moments, the rebel deserter came in sight. He 
was apparently a man of fifty; and no mendicant 
of St. Giles, who followed begging as a profession, 
could have given himself a more wretched and 
squalid appearance, if he had devoted a lifetime 
to the study of making himself look miserable. 
He wore a long black and gray beard, uncut and 
unkempt, and snarled, tangled, and knotted into 
the most fantastic forms. His gray uniform, 
plentifully bedaubed with Virginia mud, was torn 
in a hundred places, and hung in tatters upon his 
emaciated frame. On his head was an old felt 
hat, in a terribly dilapidated condition. He wore 
one boot and one shoe, which he had probably 
taken from the common sewer of Richmond, or 
some other southern city; they were ripped to 
such an extent that the “ uppers ” went flipperty- 
flap as he walked, and had the general appearance 
of the open mouth of the mythic dragon, with 
five bare toes in each to represent teeth. 

As he approached, the unthinking soldiers of 
the party indulged in screams of laughter at the 
uncouth appearance of the whilom rebel; and 
certainly the character in tableau or farce need 
not have spoken, to convulse any audience that 


228 


The Soldier Boy, or 

ever assembled in Christendom. Rip Van Winkle, 
with the devastations and dilapidations of five- 
and-twenty years hanging about him, did not pre¬ 
sent a more forlorn appearance than did this 
representative of the Confederate army. 

“ What are yon laughing at?” demanded the 
deserter, not at all delighted with this reception. 

“ I say, old fellow, how long since you escaped 
from the rag-bag?” jeered one of the men. 

“ What’s the price of boots in Richmond now? ” 
asked another. 

“ Who’s your barber?” 

“ Silence, men! ” interposed Tom, sternly, for 
lie could not permit his boys to make fun of the 
wretchedness of any human being. 

“ We’ll sell you out for paper stock,” said Ben 
Lethbridge, who had just returned from three 
months’ service in the Rip-Raps for desertion. 

“ Shut up, Ben! ” added Tom. 

“ Dry up, all of yuu! ” said Corporal Snyder. 

“Who and what are you?” asked Tom, of the 
deserter. 

“ I’m a Union man! ” replied the stranger with 
emphasis; “and I didn’t expect to be treated in 
this way after all I’ve suffered.” 

“ They thought you were a rebel. You wear 
the colors of the rebel army,” answered the ser¬ 
geant, willing to explain the rudeness of his men. 

“Well, I suppose I do look rather the worse 
for the wear,” added the grayback, glancing down 
at the tattered uniform he wore. “ I joined the 
rebel army, after I had tried every way in the 
world to get out of this infernal country; but I 
never fired a gun at a LTnion man. Seems to me, 


Tom Somers in the Army. 229 

sergeant, I’ve seen you before somewhere. What’s 
your name? Where did you come from?” 

“ Pinchbrook, Massachusetts; and most of us 
hail from the same place.” 

“ Creation ! ” exclaimed the deserter. “ You 
don’t say so!” 

“ Your voice sounds familiar to me,” added 
Tom; and for some reason his chest was heaving 
violently beneath his suddenly accelerated respira¬ 
tion. 

As he spoke, he walked towards the dilapidated 
rebel, who had not ventured to come within 
twenty feet of the party. 

“Did you say Pinchbrook?” demanded the 
stranger, who began to display a great deal of 
emotion. 

“ Pinchbrook, sir,” added Tom; and so intensely 
was he excited, that the words were gasped from 
his lips. 

“ What’s your name? ” 

“ Thomas Somers,” replied the sergeant. 

“ Tom! ” screamed the deserter, rushing for¬ 
ward. 

“ Father! ” cried Tom, as he grasped the hand 
of the phantom Confederate. 

The soldiers of the party were transfixed with 
astonishment at this unexpected scene, and they 
stood like statues gazing at the meeting of father 
and son, till the final development of their rela¬ 
tionship, when the muscles of their faces relaxed, 
and the expression of wonder gave place to joy¬ 
ous sympathy. 

u Captain Somers, of Pinchbrook! ” shouted old 


230 


The Soldier Boy, or 

Hapgood; and the men joined with him in a 
roar of intense satisfaction, that made the woods 
ring. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ON THE PENINSULA. 

The scene between Captain Somers and his son 
was very affecting and very exciting; and if the 
soldiers had all been uncles and first cousins of 
the parties, they could not have manifested more 
interest on the joyous occasion. The father wept, 
and the son wept; for each, amid the terrible ex¬ 
perience of these troublous times, had hardly ex¬ 
pected to meet the other. 

For several minutes they held each other by 
the hand, laughing and weeping alternately, and 
neither being able to express the intense emotions 
which agitated him. The men shouted and 
laughed in full sympathy with the reunited sire 
and son. 

“ I’m glad to see you, Tom,” said Captain 
Somers, as he wiped away the tears that were 
sliding down upon his grizzly beard. I haven’t 
cried before for thirty years; I’m ashamed of 
it, Tom, but I can’t lieip it.” 

“ I didn’t expect to find you here, father, and 
clothed in the rebel uniform; but I’m glad to see 
you in any uniform,” replied the soldier boy. 

“ So you’re in the army, Tom,” continued the 
father, gazing with satisfaction at the neat ap* 
pearance of the sergeant. 



231 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

"Yes, sir; I enlisted within a fortnight after 
we heard that the traitors had bombarded Fort 
Sumter.” 

“ I see you’ve got three stripes on your arm.” 

"Yes, Cap’n Somers,” said Hapgood; “ Tom 
was made a sergeant for gallant conduct on the 
river in December; and he deserved his promotion 
too.” 

" I’m glad to see you with that uniform on your 
back, Tom; and glad to hear that you have be¬ 
haved well.” 

“ I was in the battle of Bull Run, father, and 
was taken prisoner, but I got away.” 

“ Well, Tom, we’ll hear about that bimebv,” 
said the old man, stopping and looking nervously 
into the face of his son. “ I want to ask a great 
many questions, Tom, but I hardly dare to do it. 
You know I haven’t heard a word from home since 
I left, and it’s almost a year now.” 

“You needn’t be afraid, father; the folks are 
all well. I have got a heap of letters at the camp, 
and you shall read them all as soon as we get 
there.” 

“ Is your mother well, Tom?” 

“ First rate.” 

“And John?” 

“ Yes, sir; but he’s gone into the navy. He was 
bound to be’in the fight any how.” 

“John’s a chip of the old block. He wanted 
to snuff the salt water afore he was a week old. 
John’s a good sailor, and he ought to have a good 
lay wherever he goes,” added the father. 

Captain Somers and Tom sat upon the ground 
for'half an hour, until the fugitive from the rebel 


2J2 The Soldier Boy, or 

army was in some degree rested after the hard 
run he had had through the woods. The soldiers 
gathered around them, as much interested as 
though they had been members of the Somers 
family. Tom’s father had a multitude of ques¬ 
tions to ask about Pinehbrook and its people, all 
of which were answered to his satisfaction. 

The sergeant thought it was time for the party 
to move on, and his father declared that he was 
able to walk any distance which would bring him 
nearer to the home of his wife and children. The 
order was given, and the little band resumed its 
march. 

u How have you been all this time, father?’* 
asked Tom, as he walked along by the side of 
Captain Somers. 

“ I’ve been pretty fairly most of the time. I’m 
tough and hardy, or I should have been dead afore 
this time. We’ve been half starved and half 
frozen in the camp; but 1 managed to live through 
it, hoping and expecting to get away from those 
rascally rebels.” 

“Where have you been all the time?” asked 
Tom. “ Have you been in the rebel army long? ” 

“About four months; but I may as well be¬ 
gin at the beginning, and tell you the whole 
story,” added the captain. “ I got to Norfolk all 
right, and was there when the news-came up that 
the rebels had taken Sumter. Every body was 
mad, and I was as mad as the rest of them, 
though not exactly in the same way. I let on a 
little with my tongue, and came pretty near being 
tarred and feathered, and I think I should have 
been, if your uncle Wyman hadn’t interfered.” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 233 

“ Did lie settle with you, father?” 

“ After a while he did. He had some fifteen 
thousand dollars in New York, which had just 
been sent over from England, and as he was 
secesh, he was terribly.afeard the Lincoln govern¬ 
ment would confiscate it; so he settled with me, 
and gave me a power of attorney to draw his 
money, pay myself, and take care of what was 
over. I’ve got the papers safe in my waistbands 
now.” 

“Good! Glory, hallelujah!” shouted Tom. 
“ We can pay off old Pemberton now, for it goes 
against my grain to owe a dollar to a traitor. 
But if uncle Wyman is a rebel, and I suppose he 
is, I hope the government will confiscate what’s 
over after you have paid yourself.” 

“ Well, I don’t know. We will see about that 
bimeby. He used me fair, and I don’t wish him 
any harm; but I hate his principles. Well, just 
then, Tom, when I had got my accounts squared, 
the rascals took my vessel, and sunk it in the 
channel to keep the Union fleet out. My pipe was 
out then, and I couldn’t do any thing more. I 
hung round the city of Norfolk till I saw there 
w T as no chance to get out in that direction; and 
then I left. I was up near Bull Run—the rebels 
call it Manassas—when the battle was fought; 
but our folks got licked so badly, that it was nc 
use to try to get through there. 

“ I tried half a dozen times to crawl through 
and had nearly starved to death in the woods , 
but some rebel cavalry pickets spied me out, called 
me a traitor, and sent me back. My money was 


234 The Soldier Boy 3 or 

all gone by this time, and I went over to Nor¬ 
folk again. Your uncle Wyman told me I had 
better keep quiet where I was, for just as sure 
as his name was Somers, the North would all fall 
to pieces in less than six months. He expected 
the rebel army would be in New York afore long, 
and I should be a great deal better off where I 
was. He tried to get a pass to send me through 
the rebel lines, but he couldn’t do it. 

“ Things went on in this way till your uncle 
W yman went to Charleston on business, and I 
haven’t seen him from that day to this. The 
rebels tried to make me go into their navy, but I 
wouldn’t do it, of course; but when I couldn’t do 
any other way, I went into the army, hoping 1 
should be sent to the front, and find a chance 
to get away. I’ve been watching ever since, but 
I never happened to get within twenty miles of 
the Union pickets before. But here I am, and 
I’m perfectly satisfied with the past, though I’ve 
suffered a good deal in one way and another.” 

By the time Captain Somers had finished his 
narrative, the party arrived at the camp. Tom 
was reprimanded very gently for detaching him* 
self from the main body of the regiment; but when 
he reported the events of his excursion, as he had 
safely returned with his command, nothing more 
was said about his adventure. 

At the camp the Union refugee was provided 
with comfortable clothing; his hair and beard 
were trimmed down to decent proportions, and 
he was otherwise purged of the barbarisms of 
the rebel camp. But even then he did not look 
like the stout, hearty, healthy Captain Somers 


lorn Somers in the Army. 235 

who sailed from Boston in the Gazelle nearly a 
year before. He was haggard and emaciated from 
anxiety and semi-starvation. 

Captain Somers was warmly welcomed by the 
members of Company K, who came from Pinch- 
brook; and when his physical wants had been 
satisfied, he was sent to General Hooker, to com¬ 
municate to him such intelligence as he possessed 
in regard to the position and numbers of the rebel 
army. He remained at the camp but two days, 
at the end of which time he was sent to Washing¬ 
ton, and from there hastened to his home in Pinch- 
brook. A letter from Tom, announcing the joyful 
intelligence of his return, had preceded him. 

In ten days after parting with his father, the 
sergeant received a full and glowing account of 
the reception of Captain Somers, who became 
quite a lion in Pinchbrook for the time being. He 
received his money as he passed through New 
York, though not without the aid of a govern¬ 
ment order which he had procured in Washing¬ 
ton, and only the amount that was actually due 
to him, for uncle Wyman’s funds were then in 
process of being confiscated. 

The only drawback upon his father’s happiness 
was the absence of John, who had been drafted 
into a vessel bound to the South. He had not 
seen him for a year, and another year would prob¬ 
ably elapse before he could expect to realize 
this pleasure. But the captain’s patriotism had 
been intensified a hundred fold by his bitter ex¬ 
perience in Virginia; and while his twin sons 
were gallantly serving their country in the army 
and the navy, he was willing to sacrifice the yearn 


2 j 6 The Soldier Boy, or 

ings of his paternal heart, and he hoped and 
prayed that they might do their duty faithfully. 

Tom’s regiment remained on the Potomac but a 
short time after the event we have related. 
Sharper and sterner experience was before these 
tried soldiers, and the first indications of active 
service were greeted with joyous enthusiasm. 
Suddenly the camp was broken up, and the order 
to march given. The men wondered and specu¬ 
lated upon their destination, and though the 
prophets of the regiments gave them certain infor¬ 
mation in regard to the direction they were to 
take, most of them were incredulous. One de¬ 
clared they were going to Richmond by the way of 
Fredericksburg; another, by the way of Manassas; 
and a third was positive, from hints he had seen 
in the newspapers, that they were going down the 
valley of the Shenandoah, to take the capital of 
Rebeldom on the flank and rear. 

While the prophets and wise men were speculat¬ 
ing, the regiment marched on; and to the astonish¬ 
ment of all, and to the utter confusion of the 
seers, they were embarked in a transport—the 
steamer Napoleon—bound no one knew where. 
One regiment and half of another belonging to the 
brigade were huddled on board of this one 
steamer. Every foot of standing room was oc¬ 
cupied, and, of course, the boys were not very com¬ 
fortably quartered; but, as Tom expressed it, 
there was music ahead, and the brave hearts on 
board were ready to stand any thing if they could 
only get a fight out of the rebels. The mortifi* 
cation of their defeat at Bull Run still hung 
heav'ly on their spirits, and they were panting 


Tom Somers in the Army. 237 

for an opportunity to retaliate upon the foe, and 
win the laurels they had lost upon that disas¬ 
trous field. . 

The prophets, though their failure to foretell 
the coining event had cast them into disgrace, 
were still ready to volunteer an opinion. They 
declared that the transports were bound to North 
Carolina, to follow up Burnside’s successes; but 
most of the men were content to wait till the 
future should develop itself. 

The troops were eager for active duty, and if 
they could get into the field and strike a heavy 
blow at the rebellion, they did not care where it 
was. They had unbounded confidence in the 
young general who was to organize victory for 
them, and they were willing to obey orders, and 
leave every thing to him. 

It thundered all around ” them. Roanoke, 
Pea Ridge, Newbern, Winchester, Donelson, were 
a succession of Union victories, which inspired 
them with zeal and courage to endure all hard¬ 
ships, and face any peril which might be in their 
path. 

The transport descended the Potomac, and came 
to anchor in the bay, where they lay one day; the 
steamer then continued on her course, and landed 
her troops in Cheseman’s Creek, an indentation 
of the peninsula between the York and James 
Rivers. After lying in camp a few days, they 
marched again, and Tom learned that the regi¬ 
ment was before Yorktown, which had been 
strongly fortified by the rebels to resist the ad¬ 
vance of the Union army. 


23 8 


The Soldier Boy, or 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE BATTLE OF WILLIAMSBURG. 

What the army of the Potomac achieved and 
suffered before Yorktown, we must leave for the 
historian. Our soldier boy was only one hero 
among thousands who toiled in the soft mud of 
the early spring, who watched and waited for the 
tremendous events which have now passed into 
history, and whose actors will be honored and re¬ 
membered by future generations. 

Tom Somers bore his full share of the trials 
and hardships of that eventful period; and when 
McClellan’s scientific engineering had driven the 
rebels from their strong works without a struggle 
to retain them, he moved forward with the gallant 
army. “ On to Richmond!” again sounded along 
the lines, and the soldiers toiled through mud and 
mire, hoping and expecting to strike the final 
blow that would crush out the rebellion. 

Yorktown was evacuated. The rebels were flee¬ 
ing from their frowning batteries, and the order 
came for Hooker’s division to join in the pursuit. 
At noon the brigade—now under command of 
General Grover commenced its forward move¬ 
ment. 

“ Rather rough,” said Hapgood, as the regiment 
struggled on through the mire. 


239 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ Rather soft, I think,” replied Tom, laughing. 

“ I hope we haven’t got to march far through 
this mud,” added Ben Lethbridge. 

“ That will depend upon how soon we come up 
with the rebels. If it rests with Hooker, I tell 
you he will get a fight out of the rebs, if such a 
thing is possible.” 

After the regiment had marched five or six 
miles, the order came to halt; and the intelligence 
passed along the column that the cavalry had 
come up with the enemy, and were waiting the 
arrival of an infantry force to assist in the at¬ 
tack. 

“Good!” shouted Tom. “We shall have a 
battle before night.” 

“ Perhaps not,” added Hapgood. “It takes the 
cat a good while to catch the mouse, even after 
she smells the critter.” 

“ Why don’t we march? What are we stopping 
here for?” said Tom, impatiently. 

“They say Smith’s division has got in ahead 
of us. Keep cool, Tom; never be in a hurry for 
a battle. Some of us that stand here now won’t 
be alive in twenty-four hours from now; for I 
don’t believe the rebs are going to let us have it 
all our own way,” said the veteran. 

“ Nor I,” added Fred Pemberton. “ I shall be 
killed in this fight.” 

“How do you know, Fred?” demanded Hap¬ 
good, sternly. 

“ Of course I don’t know, but I feel it in my 
bones that I shall fall in the first battle.” 

“ Your bones ain’t no guide at all. I know 
something about this business, and I’ve seen 


240 


The Soldier Boy, or 

croakers afore to-day. Don’t talk about being 
killed, or even hit. Be ready to die, do your duty 
like a soldier, and leave all the rest to your 
Maker,” said the veteran, solemnly. 

“ I don’t have any such feeling as that. I 
know I shan’t be killed,” laughed Ben. “ The bul¬ 
let hasn’t been cast yet that will stop my wind.” 

“ Perhaps it has, my boy. It may be in some 
rebel soldier’s cartridge box over yonder, even 
now. I tell you, boys, you don’t know any thing 
about it. Just afore we went in at Cerrv Gordy, 
a feller by my side said the same thing you did, 
Ben; and he was the first man that went down. 
I tried to pick him up, and do something for him, 
but he was stone dead. I tell you, Ben, you don’t 
know any thing about it. Leave it all to the Al¬ 
mighty.” 

“ Pooh, uncle! ” sneered Ben, trying to laugh 
down the solemn words of the old man. “ Don’t 
you think we’d better have a prayer meetin’ before 
we go in ? ” 

“ I think we should fight the better for it, for 
he who trusts in God don’t fear death.” 

But it was evident that the words of Hap- 
good, especially the incident of Cerro Gordo, had 
made a deep impression upon the mind of the 
thoughtless young man. Though the division did 
not move for three hours, he was very silent and 
sober. He seemed to feel that he had been tempt¬ 
ing Providence by his bold speech, and even ex¬ 
pressed his regret to Tom for what he had said. 

It was dark when the order to march was given. 
The night was exceedingly gloomy, and the rain 
poured down upon the devoted army, as it moved 


Tom Somers in the Army. 241 

forward to do its great work. Hour after hour, 
in the deep darkness and the pouring rain, the 
men struggled through the mire, expecting every 
moment to be hurled upon the rebel battalions, 
or to meet the impetuous onset of the foe. 

Between ten and eleven, when the men were 
nearly worn out by the exhausting labors of the 
march, they were ordered to halt in the road, 
and bivouac for the rest of the night. What a 
time and what a place for repose! They could 
only wrap themselves up in their wet blankets, 
and stretch themselves upon the ground, soaked 
with water, and with the rain still pouring down 
upon them. But they slept, and enjoyed their 
rest, for Nature was imperative in her demands. 

At daylight the march was resumed; for the 
intrepid Hooker, ever faithful to the trust con¬ 
fided to him, was wholly in earnest. At half-past 
five the column was halted in the woods. The 
rebel works before Williamsburg were in sight, 
and General Hooker rode to the front to examine 
the position of the enemy. 

In front of the rebel batteries, and on each side 
of the roads, the trees had been felled, in order 
to give the guns in the field works full play upon 
an approaching force. 

“ Hurrah! ” shouted some of the boys on the 
right of the column. “ Our brigade is to com¬ 
mence the attack.” 

“ How do you know?” growled Hapgood, who 
did not think a soldier ought to know any thing 
about the plan of the battle. 

“ We are ordered to move,” replied Tom. “ I 
suppose that’s all they know about it.” 


2^.1 The Soldier Boy, or 

The prophets on the right were correct this 
time, for the regiment was soon sent to the right 
of the road, and ordered to deploy as skirmishers. 
A battery was thrown forward in front of the 
felled timber; but before a gun could be fired, 
two officers and two privates were seen to fall be¬ 
fore the unerring aim of the rebel sharpshooters, 
occupying the rifle pits which dotted the cleared 
land in front of the forts. 

“ That’s a hot place,” said Ben Lethbridge. 

“ We shall all see hot work before the sun goes 
down to-night,” replied Tom. “ But let us stand 
up to it like men.” 

“ That’s the talk, Tom ! ” exclaimed Hapgood. 
<( Have you got those socks on, my boy?” 

“I have, uncle;.and I have the letter and the 
photograph in my pocket.” 

“ Good, Tom! After this day’s work is over, 
you can write the lady a letter, and tell her that 
her socks have been in a battle.” 

“ And that I didn’t run away in them.” 

The roar of the guns in Fort Magruder inter¬ 
rupted the conversation. The gunners of the bat 
terv in front of them had been driven from their 
pieces; but it was almost instantly manned by 
volunteers, and a destructive fire poured into +he 
works. Other batteries were brought up, and 
the fort was soon silenced. The roar of battle 
sounded all along the line; the thunder of cannon 
and the crash of musketry reverberated through 
the woods and over the plain, assuring the im¬ 
patient troops that they were engaged in no 
trivial affair; that they were fighting a great 


Tom Somers in the Army. 243 

battle, of which thousands yet unborn would read 
upon the pages of history. 

Our regiment closed up its lines, and the gallant 
colonel gave the order to move forward in the 
direction of the field works. On, on, steadily and 
firmly marched the men of Massachusetts, through 
ditch and swamp, through mud and mire, load¬ 
ing, firing, and charging, as the enemy presented 
opportunity. The hot work of the day had com¬ 
menced ; for, from every bush, tree, and covert,, 
which could conceal a man, the rebels poured a 
deadly fire into the ranks of the advancing Fed- 
erals. 

Tom stood as firm as a rock. The doubts and 
fears which beset him in his first battle had no 
existence on this' day. So thoroughly had he 
schooled his mind to the fearful ordeal of carnage,, 
that he felt quite at home. He was cool and de¬ 
termined, and continually encouraged those 
around him by his cheering words as well as by 
his example. 

“ Ben is down! ” exclaimed Hapgood. 

“ Poor fellow!” replied Tom, without taking; 
his eye off the foe in front. 

“ There goes Bob Dornton! ” added Hapgood. 

“ Stand up to it, my men! ” said Tom, firmly* 
for he had no time then to think of the fallen. 

“ Forward! ” shouted the impetuous colonel* 
who, if he had never been popular with the men 
before, was rapidly establishing himself in their 
good graces by his unflinching heroism. “For¬ 
ward ! double quick ! march ! ” 

And on dashed the gallant regiment, mounting 
the enemy’s lofty works, and driving the foe be- 


244 


The Soldier Boy, or 


fore them like sheep, at the point of the bayonet 
This was the first experience of this exciting de¬ 
scription which Tom had seen, and he entered into 
the spirit of it with a hearty zeal. 

“ Halt! ” was the order, as a regiment filed out 
in front of them, with a flag of truce flying on its 
front. “ Steady—don’t fire,” repeated several 
officers along the line. 

“ What regiment are you?” shouted a person, 
as the flag came within speaking distance. 

“ What are you ? ” demanded an officer of the 
storming party. 

“ WVre the Alabama eighth ! ” 

“W T e are the Massachusetts —th,” replied our 
men. 

“ Then you are the villains we want! ” returned 
the rebel, plentifully interlarding the sentence 
with oaths. 

The flag of truce dropped, and the dastardly 
foe poured in a volley of musketry, before which 
a dozen of our brave boys fell, either killed or 
wounded. 

a Fire!” yelled the colonel; and the order was 
obeyed with a will. “Charge bayonets! For¬ 
ward—double quick—march ! ” 

The men, burning with indignation at the 
treachery of the rebel horde, sprang forward to 
wreak their righteous vengeance upon the cow¬ 
ardly traitors. So impetuous was the charge, 
that the rebel regiment broke, and sought safety 
in flight. 

“ Down with them! ” hoarsely screamed Tom, 
as the line swayed forward, and pursued the 
panic-stricken foe into the woods on the left. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 245 

The even line was broken, and the boys scattered 
to do their work to the best advantage. 

Tom’s legs seemed to be in excellent condition, 
notwithstanding the toilsome marches of the last 
twenty-four hours; and he dashed forward into 
the woods followed by only a dozen choice spirits, 
whose enthusiasm was equal to his own. A squad 
of flying rebels in front of them was the object 
of their present anxiety, and they soon distanced 
their companions. 

The rebels, seeing by how small a force they 
were pursued, rallied and formed line again. 

“ Give it to them! ” cried Tom, as he led his 
little force upon the rebels. 

“ Hold on, Tom ! ” said Hapgood ; “ we have gone 
far enough. There’s a rebel regiment forming be¬ 
hind us.” 

“ Can’t help it,” said Tom, as he rushed for¬ 
ward, with the veteran by his side. “ Give it to 
them! ” 

Tom and his men threw themselves upon the 
rebel squad, and a sharp fight ensued, in which 
the parties fought with bayonets, clubbed mus¬ 
kets, and even with the death grip upon each 
other’s throats. The traitors could not stand it, 
and fled again. 

The sergeant glanced behind him, and saw the 
rebel regiment formed ready to charge upon his 
own. He was cut off from his friends, with the 
enemy on his front and rear. Three of his men 
had fallen in the sharp encounter with the rebels, 
and most of them were wounded or bruised, and 
all of them out of breath. To add to the peril of 
the situation, the squall they had been pursuing; 


246 The Soldier Boy, or 

were rallying and being reenforced by their fugr 
live companions. 

“ Bad, Tom, bad,” said Hapgood, who was puff¬ 
ing and blowing like a porpoise, as he ominously 
shook his head. 

“Follow me!” said Tom, confidently, as he led 
the way in a direction at right angles with the 
advance of the party. 

Our regiment had reformed again, and soon 
gave that in front of them enough to do. The 
rebels in their rear caused the sergeant’s squad 
no little annoyance; but they continued on their 
course, loading and firing as they retreated. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

MORE OF THE BATTLE. 

While Tom and his little command were work¬ 
ing their way back to the Union lines, followed 
up by the disorganized band of rebels, a series of' 
most unearthly yells swept over the field, for they 
had emerged from the woods. It was the rally¬ 
ing cry of the Confederate regiment which had 
formed in their rear. They were charging upon 
the Massachusetts —th; but they might as well 
have charged upon the Rock of Gibraltar, for 
presently Tom was delighted to see them retiring 
before the tremendous onslaught of his friends. 

“ Hurrah! ” shouted he, forgetting the foe in 
his rear, and pressing forward to that on his 
front, at the same time changing his course so as 



Tom Somers in the Army. 247 

to approach the right wing of the rebel regiment. 

“ Don’t be rash, Tom,” said the old soldier, who 
never permitted the sergeant to leave his side. 

“ Follow me, boys! ” roared Tom, breathless 
with excitement, as he started off on the double 
quick towards the breaking lines of the enemy. 

“ Here we are!” replied the gallant fellows be¬ 
hind him, pushing forward with a zeal equal to 
that of their leader, from whom they derived 
their inspiration. “ Go in, sergeant, and we’ll 
stand by you.” 

But the bold soldier boy had discretion as well 
as gallantry; and he saw that if he threw his 
little force upon the rebel line, the whole party 
would be instantly annihilated. A covert of 
bushes fortunately lay on the right flank of the 
retreating regiment, and Tom ordered his men to 
conceal themselves behind it, until a favorable 
moment should arrive to take their places in the 
lines. 

The men were glad enough to obtain a breath¬ 
ing spell; but, at such a tremendous moment as 
that, idleness would have been treason, for such 
a glorious opportunity to strike a heavy blow 
had not before occurred. 

“ Load up, and fire at will,” said Tom, as he 
charged his musket. “ Don’t throw your lead 
away either.” 

“ We are a dead shot here if we are any where,’* 
added Hapgood, as he and the rest of the party 
hastily loaded their muskets. 

Pop went Tom’s piece first, and over went the 
rebel at the extreme right of the rebel regiment. 
There was no such thing as missing the mark, for* 


248 


The Soldier Boy, or 

they were on the flank of the Confederate line, 
which the united efforts of the officers could hardly 
preserve. The men in the covert fired when they 
were ready; and as they carefully observed the 
injunction of Tom not to waste their lead, every 
shot told upon the rebels. 

The Confederate officers glanced nervously at 
the clump of bushes, which glowed with flashes of 
fire as the sergeant’s little command poured in 
their volleys; but they were too closely pressed 
by the Federals in front to attempt to dislodge 
them. The rebel privates were not long in as¬ 
certaining what was so clear to their officers— 
that they were flanked, and were being shot down 
like sheep, from a quarter where they could not 
defend themselves. They had .been slowly and 
doggedly retiring before the advancing Federals, 
disputing every inch of ground; but when they 
realized that the bolts of death were dropping 
among them from another direction, they could 
no longer endure that awful suspense which takes 
possession of the minds of men when they are 
suspended, as it were, between life and death. 

Tom saw them waver, and he knew what it 
meant. The rebel line was just abreast of him, 
and he had seen at least a score of men fall be- 
.fore the deadly fire of his party. 

“ Give it to them, boys! They shake! ” shouted 
Tom, as he delivered his fire again. “ Pour in as 
fast as you can, but don’t waste your powder.” 

The men redoubled their exertions, and the ra¬ 
pidity of their fire was sensibly increased. The 
effect was soon perceptible in the rebel ranks; 
for the right of the line, probably supposing a 


249 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

company, if not a whole regiment, of sharp¬ 
shooters was concealed in the covert, suddenly 
broke and fled with the utmost precipitation, in. 
spite of the gallant efforts of their officers to rally 
them. 

The Federal regiment instantly took advantage 
of this partial panic, and charged furiously upon 
the rebel line. A desperate hand-to-hand en¬ 
counter ensued, during which Tom and his com¬ 
panions emerged from their concealment, and 
ran along the rear of the victorious line. They 
soon satisfied themselves of what they had before 
believed—that the regiment was their own; and 
they lost no time in finding the company to which 
they belonged. They joined in the pursuit, which 
soon ended in the utter rout of the rebel force. 

The position of the enemy’s lines did not permit 
them to follow the advantage to any great extent, 
and the order was soon given to fall back. At 
this juncture the regiment, which had been con¬ 
stantly engaged for several hours, was relieved; 
and not too early in the day, for the men were 
completely exhausted by the furious onslaughts 
they had made. 

“ Who were those men in the bushes on the flank 
of the rebel regiment?” demanded the colonel, as 
he reined up his jaded horse in front of Company 
K. 

“ Sergeant Somers and others,” replied Captain 
Benson. 

“ Somers again ! ” exclaimed the colonel. 

“ Yes, sir. They pursued the regiment into the 
woods—the one that showed the flag of truce—till 
they were separated from the rest of us.” 


250 The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Forward, Sergeant Somers/’ added the 
colonel. 

Tom modestly stepped forward, and he would 
have blushed if his face had not been so reddened 
by his previous exertions as to leave no room for 
a deepening of its tint. 

“ You did a big thing, Sergeant Somers. You 
broke that rebel line by your steady fire. Ser¬ 
geant Somers, I thank you and the men you com¬ 
manded for your good service.” 

Tom bowed, and the regiment cheered. It was 
the proudest moment of his life to be thanked on 
the field, while the guns were roaring and the 
musketry rattling, for the good service he had 
rendered. It would form an excellent paragraph 
for his letter to Lilian Ashford, especially as he 
had more than once, in the perils of that exciting 
hour, thought of the socks he wore, and of the 
letter and the photograph which nestled in his 
breast pocket, and upon which his quick throb¬ 
bing heart was beating the notes of glory and 
victory. 

“ We gave you up for lost,” said Captain Ben¬ 
son, as Tom returned to the line. 

“We are safe, thank God!” replied Tom, 
“ though three of our number fell in the woods, 
or on the field where we were chased by the 
rebels.” 

“ Sergeant Somers saved us,” added uncle Hap- 
good. “ If he hadn’t been as cool as cowcumber, 
and as stiff as the mainmast of a frigate, we 
should have been taken, every one of us.” 

“ Bravo, Tom! ” said the captain. 

“ The men stood by me like heroes, or it would 


2 S I 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

have been all up with the whole of us. They are 
good fellows, and they deserve as much credit 
as I do.” 

The battle continued to rage with increasing 
fury, till the roar, and the crash, and the sweep 
of armed legions beggared description. Regi¬ 
ments and brigades advanced and fell back with 
the varying fortunes of the day, but as yet there 
was nothing to indicate the final result. 

When the men of our regiment had recovered 
their breath, an order came for them to proceed 
to the left. On their arrival at the position as¬ 
signed to them, they w T ere immediately led to the 
front, where the batteries which had been pouring 
a hot fire into the enemy were in imminent 
danger of being surrounded. Indeed, the swoop 
of the rebel infantry upon the guns had already 
been made, and the cannoneers had been driven 
from their stations. With the colonel on the 
right, and the adjutant in command on the left, 
the regiment charged upon the foe, as it had twice 
before charged on that eventful day, with an 
enthusiasm bordering upon fury. 

The rebels had even spiked one of the guns, and 
they maintained their position with an obstinacy 
which promised the annihilation of one or the 
other of the contending forces. A desperate strife 
ensued, in which the least perceptible advantage 
was gained by the Federals. But if they could 
do no more, they held the enemy in check, till the 
gunners could charge their pieces with grape and 
canister, which they poured into the rebels with 
the most deadly effect. 

“ Hurrah! ” shouted Tom, as the rebels quaked 


252 


The Soldier Boy, or 

before the withering storm of shot belched forth 
by the guns of the battery. “ They shake! Give it 
to them! ” 

“ Steady, my men! steady,” said Captain Ben¬ 
son. “ The ammunition of the battery is ex¬ 
pended,” he added, as the cannon ceased their 
work of destruction. “ We must hold these pieces, 
and every man must do his duty.” 

“Ay, ay, sir!” replied Tom, vigorously, and 
the cry was repeated through the company. 

As soon as the guns were thus rendered use¬ 
less, the enemy swept down upon the supports 
again, intent upon capturing the pieces. They ad¬ 
vanced with that terrific yell which is enough of 
itself to frighten a nervous man, and with an 
impetuosity which nothing human could resist. 
Our regiment recoiled under the shock; but it 
was forced back by the sheer stress of numbers. 

“ Rally men ! Rally, my brave fellows! ” shouted 
the adjutant, in command of the left wing. 

“Stand stiff! Roll them back!” roared the 
colonel. 

“ Steady, men! ” added Captain Benson. 

“ Now, give it to them! ” screamed Tom, as he 
plunged his bayonet into the vitals of the rebel 
in front of him, and pushed forward into the very 
midst of the foe. 

The sergeant seemed suddenly to be endowed 
with the strength of a giant, and he held his own 
till Hapgood sprang to his assistance. The rest 
of the line, inspired by this daring conduct, 
rushed forward, and fell upon the foe with a fury 
that could not be resisted. 

“ Bravo! Bravo, Tom!” shouted the captain. 


2 53 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

“ Go in, boys! ” roared the lieutenant. 

And the boys “ went in,” and forced back the 
rebel line, and held the guns until another battery 
with a supply of ammunition arrived upon the 
ground to relieve them. The enemy was again re¬ 
pulsed, and the guns were saved by the unflinch¬ 
ing heroism of our gallant Massachusetts regi¬ 
ment—another paragraph for the letter to Lilian 
Ashford. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

GLORY AND VICTORY. 

The battle now raged more fiercely than ever, 
and hotter and hotter became the fire on every 
side. The shouts of the enemy indicated the ar¬ 
rival of reenforcements. “ Johnston!” Long- 
street ! ” resounded over the field, and roused the 
rebels to renewed activity. More certainly was 
the increase of the enemy’s force determined by 
the gradual falling back of the brigade at the left 
of the road; but the men fought with desperate 
courage, and yielded not a foot of ground with¬ 
out enriching it with their best blood. 

There were no signs of reenforcements for over 
exhausted troops, though a whole corps was with¬ 
in hearing of the booming guns that were slaugh¬ 
tering our outnumbered and exhausted brigades. 
On the field the aspect began to be dark and un¬ 
promising, and Tom prayed with all his soul that 
he might be spared the pain of beholding another 
defeat, another rout. 



254 T'he Soldier Boy, or 

Our regiment was ordered to the support of 
the yielding brigade on the left. The woods were 
full of rebels, and the issue of the conflict in this 
part of the field was almost hopeless. The enemy 
seemed to be inspired by the slight advantage 
they had gained, and their yells were fiercer and 
more diabolical than ever, as they gathered them¬ 
selves up for a desperate onslaught. 

The Federal brigade was overmatched, and the 
result seemed to waver upon a balance; then the 
equilibrium was slightly disturbed, and the Union 
force fell back a little, but only a little, and dog¬ 
gedly resisted the advance of the foe. It needed 
but little to restore the equilibrium, and our regi¬ 
ment, after struggling through the mud with all 
attainable speed, arrived upon the spot when the 
prospect was so gloomy for the loyal cause. 

The men were almost exhausted by the tremen¬ 
dous strain which had all day long been imposed 
upon their nervous systems, and by the physical 
exertion required of them. But the battle was 
going against the North, and they were ready 
again to make a desperate effort to redeem the 
field. 

“ One more of your Massachusetts charges, 
colonel,” said General Hooker, as the weary 
soldiers moved up to the endangered position. 

“ You shall have it, general. My men are-al¬ 
ways ready, though they are nearly used up.” 

“ Hancock and Kearney are close by, and if we 
can hold out a few minutes longer, all will be 
well with us.” 

“ We’ll drive them back, general! ” shouted the 
colonel. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 255 

“ Go in, then! ” added the gallant Hooker, wav¬ 
ing his sword to encourage the soldiers. “ For¬ 
ward ! You have no time to lose! ” 

The fiery coloneUbriefly stated to the regiment 
the nature of the work before them, admonished 
the men to do as they had done all day, and Mas¬ 
sachusetts would be proud of them. A ringing 
cheer was the reply to the stirring words of the 
colonel, and the orders were given for the advance. 

On went the brave fellows like a wall of iron, 
and precipitated themselves upon the rebels, buoy¬ 
ant with hope as they followed up their temporary 
advantage. The point of attack was all in their 
favor, and their exhilarating shouts as they 
sprang upon the foe kindled up the expiring en¬ 
thusiasm of the yielding brigade to whose assis¬ 
tance they had come. The shock was terrible— 
more fearful and destructive than any which our 
boys had before experienced. 

“ Steady, my men! ” shouted Captain Benson. 

“ Give it to them! ” roared Tom, maddened to 
desperation by the awful strife around him, and 
by seeing so many of our men fall by his side. 

“ Stand up to it! ” shouted the excited colonel. 
“ They run ! ” 

At this moment an inequality of the ground 
beneath the men of Company K placed them in a 
bad position, and the rebels in front of them;, 
taking advantage of the circumstance, pressed 
forward, and actually broke through the line, 
trampling some of our soldiers beneath their feet, 
and transfixing them with their bayonets. 

A terrible scene ensued at this gap in the ranks, 
*or the whole rebel regiment began to press 


256 


The Soldier Boy, or 

into the weak place. The breach was made by 
the side of our sergeant, so that he was not borne 
down by the pressure of the rebel battalion. 

“ Close up!” yelled Tom. /‘Close up! Hail, 
Columbia! and give it to them!” 

Drawing a revolver which he had been per¬ 
mitted to retain after the capture of the contra¬ 
band craft on the Potomac, he discharged its 
six barrels into the foremost of the assailants; 
and Hapgood and Fred Pemberton, who were 
armed in like manner from the same source, imi¬ 
tated the example of the sergeant. 

“Now give them the bayonet, boys!” screamed 
Tom, hoarsely, as he plunged info the midst of 
the rebels. 

The men on the other side of the gap pushed 
forward with equal energy, and the ranks closed 
up again over a pile of dead and wounded rebels, 
and Federals, who had fallen in that sharp en¬ 
counter. 

“Bravo!” shouted General Hooker, whose at¬ 
tention had been drawn to the break in the ilne. 
“Bravo, sergeant!” You shall have a commis¬ 
sion! Forward, my brave boys! Massachusetts 
sees you! ” 

“ Up and at them,” cried Tom, as the rebels 
began to yield and break before the tremendous 
charge of our regiment. 

The young sergeant’s throat was raw with the 
shouting he had done, and his limbs were begin 
ning to yield to the fatigues of the day; but the 
words of the commander of the division made 
him over new again, and his husky voice still 
rang along the line, full of new courage and new 


Tom Somers in the Army. 257 

energy to his exhausted comrades. The rebels 
were driven back for the time, and fled before 
the iron masses that crowded upon them. 

The regiment was recalled, and the weary 
troops, now almost decimated by the slaughter 
which had taken place in their ranks, were per¬ 
mitted to breathe once more. 

“ This is awful,” said the veteran of Company 
K, panting from the violence of his exertions. 
“ I never saw any thing like this before.” 

“ Nor I,” replied Tom, dropping upon the 
ground with exhaustion. 

“ I know something about this business. I 
thought Cerry Gordy was consid’able of a battle, 
but ’twas nothin’ like this.” 

“It’s awful,” sighed Tom, as he thought of the 
good fellows he had seen fall upon the field. 

“ Heaps of our boys have gone down! ” 

“ Attention—battalion ! ” came ringing with 
startling effect along the line, in the familiar 
tones of the intrepid colonel. 

“If we win the day, we can afford to lose many. 
Victory or death! ” shouted Tom, as he sprang to 
his feet, in obedience to the command. “ More 
work for us! ” 

“How do you feel, Tom?” demanded the vet¬ 
eran, as they sprang into the line. 

“All right,” replied Tom, with a forced buoy¬ 
ancy of spirits. 

“Are you sure, my boy?” continued the vet¬ 
eran, gazing with deep anxiety into the face of the 
sergeant. 

“ I’m first rate, uncle. I think I can stand 
it as long as any body else.” 


258 


The Soldier Boy, or 


“You have done wonders to-day, Tom. Fm 
proud of you, but I’m afeared you are doing too 
much. If you are used up, it wouldn’t be any 
disgrace for you to go to the rear. After what 
you’ve done, nobody will say a word. Don’t 
kill yourself, Tom, but go to the rear.” 

“ I go to the rear! ” exclaimed Tom, with indig¬ 
nation. 

“If you are disabled, I mean, of course,’’ apolo¬ 
gized the veteran. 

“ I’m not disabled. If I go to the rear with 
these socks on, it won’t be till after the breath 
has left my body.” 

“ Socks! ” replied Hapgood, with a sneer. I’m 
ifeared that gal will be the death of you.” 

“ I don’t sulk in these socks,” replied Tom, 
with a faint smile, as the regiment moved off 
on the double quick to some new position of peril. 

“The rebels are flanking us!” shouted an offi¬ 
cer in another command, as our regiment hurried 
forward to the endangered point. 

“ That’s what we are wanted for,” said Hap¬ 
good. 

The enemy had nearly accomplished their pur¬ 
pose when our gallant colonel and his jaded force 
reached the left of the line, and in a few moments 
more would have poured a flanking fire into our 
devoted battalions, which were struggling with 
terrible energy to roll back the pressure in front 
of them. 

The colonel had his men well in hand, and he 
manoeuvred them with consummate skill, so as 
to bring them advantageously to the work they 
were to perform. The regiment was hurled 


Tom Somers in the Army. 259 

against the head of the flanking column, and the 
boys rushed forward with that dash and spirit 
which had characterized their conduct half a 
score of times before in various parts of the field. 

Tom’s muscles had become loose and soft after 
the long-continued strain upon them, and if his 
soul had not been ten times as big as his body, 
he must have sunk under the exhaustion of the 
day. Another desperate onslaught was required 
of the men of our regiment, and commanding all 
his energies, Tom braced himself up once more 
for the fearful struggle. 

“ How do you feel now, Tom ? ” demanded the 
anxious veteran, as he bit off the cartridge, and 
rammed it home. 

“ First rate, uncle!” replied Tom, as the regi¬ 
ment poured a withering volley into the rebel 
line. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, Tom, don’t kill yourself,” 
added the old man, as they loaded up again. 
“ Your knees shake under you now.” 

“ Do you think I’m afraid, uncle?” demanded 
the sergeant with a grim smile. 

“ No, no, Tom ; of course I don’t think any thing 
of the kind. Fm afeared you’ll bust a blood-ves* 
sel, or something of that sort.” 

“ If I do, I’ll let you know, uncle.” 

“ Charge bayonets! Double quick—march ! ” 
rang along the line. 

“ Have at them! ” cried Tom, who was always 
the first to catch the orders of the commanding 
officer. “ Down with them! Give ’em Yankee 
Doodle, Hail, Columbia, and the Red, White, and 
Blue” 


260 The Soldier Boy, or 

The advancing column, shaken by the furious 
fire of our regiment, recoiled before the shock. 
Slowly the foe fell back, leaving heaps of their 
slain upon the hotly-contested ground. Our boys 
halted, and poured in another destructive volley. 

The Confederate officers rallied their men, and, 
maddened by the check they had received, drove 
them forward to recover the lost ground. 

“ Once more, boys! Give it to ’em again,” cried 
Tom, as the order to advance was repeated. 

His words were only representations of his 
actions; for, as he spoke, he rushed on a little 
in front of his comrades, who, however, pressed 
forward to keep up with him. He did not exceed 
the orders of his superior, but he was one of 
the promptest to obey them. On dashed the regi¬ 
ment, and again the rebel line recoiled, and soon 
broke in spite of the admirable efforts of their 
officers to keep them steady. 

“Kearney! Kearney! Kearney is here!” 
shouted the weary heroes in various parts of the 
field. 

“ Down with them! ” roared Tom, as the in¬ 
spiring words rang in his ears. “ Down with 
them ! Kearney has come, and the day is ours! ” 

He had scarcely uttered the words, and sprung 
forward, before he was seen to drop upon the 
ground, several paces in front of the line, though 
the undaunted old Hapgood was close by his 
side. The enemy had fled; the danger of being 
flanked was averted; and when Kearney’s men 
dashed on the field, the sad-hearted veteran, as¬ 
sisted by Fred Pemberton, bore the silent form 
of the gallant sergeant to the rear. 


Tom Somers in the Army. 261 

Kearney and Hancock rushed gallantly to the 
rescue of the exhausted troops, and Hooker’s di¬ 
vision was ordered to the rear to act as a reserve. 
The strife raged with unabated fury as those who 
had borne the brunt of the battle slowly fell back 
to give place to the fresh legions. 

Poor Tom was tenderly carried by the wiry 
veteran and his friends to the surgeon’s quarters 
in the rear. There were tears in the eyes of the 
old man as he laid the silent form of his protege 
upon the wet ground. There he sat by his charge, 
sorrowful beyond expression, till tremendous 
shouts rent the air. Tom opened his eyes. 

“ Glory and Victory! ” shouted he, in husky 
tones, as he sprang to his feet. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

HONORABLE MENTION. 

The surgeon examined Tom’s wound, and found 
that he had been struck by a bullet over the left 
temple. The flesh was torn off, and if the skull 
was not fractured, it had received a tremendous 
hard shock. It was probably done at the instant 
when he turned to rally the men of Company K, 
and the ball glanced under the visor of his cap, 
close enough to scrape upon his skull, but far 
enough off to save his brains. Half an inch 
closer, and the bullet would have wound up Tom’s 
earthly career. 



262 


The Soldier Boy, or 

The shock had stunned him, and he had dropped 
like a dead man, while the profusion of blood 
that came from the wound covered his face, and 
his friends could not tell whether he was killed 
or not. He was a pitiable object as he lay on 
the ground by the surgeon’s quarters; but the 
veteran soon assured himself that his young 
charge was not dead. 

Hapgood washed the gore from his face, and 
did what he could in his unscientific manner; 
and probably the cold water had a salutary effect 
upon the patient, for when Hancock and Kearney 
had completed their work, and the cry of victory 
rang over the bloody field, he was sufficiently 
revived to hear the inspiring tones of triumph. 
Leaping to his feet, faint and sick as he was, he 
took up the cry, and shouted in unison with 
the victors upon the field. 

But he had scarcely uttered the notes of glory 
and victory before his strength deserted him, 
and he would have dropped upon the ground if 
he had not been caught by Hapgood. He groaned 
heavily as he sank into the arms of his friend, 
and yielded to the faintness and exhaustion of 
the moment. 

The surgeon said the wound was not a very 
bad one, but that the patient was completely 
worn out by the excessive fatigues of march and 
battle. In due time he was conveyed to the col¬ 
lege building in Williamsburg, where hundreds 
of his companions in arms were suffening and 
dying of their wounds. He received every atten¬ 
tion which the circumstances would permit. 
Hapgood, by sundry vigorous applications at 


Tom Somers in the Army. 263 

headquarters, was, in consideration of his own 
and his protege’s good conduct on the battle 
field, permitted to remain with the patient over 
night. 

The sergeant’s skull, as we have before inti¬ 
mated, was not very badly damaged, as physical 
injuries were measured after the bloody battle 
of that day. But his wound was not the only 
detriment he had experienced in the trying ordeal 
of that terrible day. His constitution had not 
yet been fully developed; his muscles were not 
hardened, and the fatigues of battle and march 
had a more serious effect upon him than the 
ounce of lead which had struck him on the fore¬ 
head. 

The surgeon understood his case perfectly, and 
after dressing his wound, he administered some 
simple restoratives, and ordered the patient to 
go to sleep. On the night of the 3d of May, he 
had been on guard duty; on that of the 4th, he 
had obtained but three hours’ sleep; and thus 
deprived of the rest which a growing boy needs, 
he had passed through the fearful scenes of the 
battle, in which his energies, mental and physical, 
had been tasked to their utmost. He was com¬ 
pletely worn out, and in spite of the surroundings 
of the hospital, he went to sleep, obeying to the 
letter the orders of the surgeon. 

After twelve hours of almost uninterrupted 
slumber, Tom’s condition was very materially 
improved, and when the doctor went his morning 
found, our sergeant buoyantly proposed to join 
his regiment forthwith. 

“ Not yet, my boy,” said the surgeon, kindly. 


264 The Soldier Boy, or 

“ I shall not permit you to do duty for at least 
thirty days to come/’ he added, as he felt the 
patient’s pulse. 

“ I feel pretty well, sir,” replied Tom. 

“ No, you don’t. Your regiment will remain 
here, I learn, for a few days, and you must keep 
quiet, or you will have a fever.” 

“ I don’t feel sick, and my head doesn’t pain 
me a bit.” 

“ That may be, but you are not fit for duty. 
Y r ou did too much yesterday. They say you be¬ 
haved like a hero, on the field.” 

“ I tried to do my duty,” replied Tom, his 
pale cheek suffused with a blush. 

“ Boys like you can’t stand much of such work 
as that. We must fix you up for the next battle; 
and you shall go into Richmond with the rest 
of the boys.” 

“ Must I stay in here all the time?” 

“ No, you may go where you please. I will 
give you a certificate which will keep you safe 
from harm. You can walk about, and visit your 
regiment if you wish.” 

“ Thank you, doctor.” 

Hapgood had been compelled to leave the hos¬ 
pital before his patient waked, and Tom had not 
yet learned any thing in regard to the casualties 
of the battle. Armed with the surgeon’s certifi¬ 
cate, he left the hospital, and walked to the place 
where the steward told him he would find his 
regiment. Somewhat to his astonishment he 
found that he was very weak; and before he 
had accomplished half the distance to the camp, 
he came to the conclusion that he was in no con- 


Tom Somers in the Army. 265 

dition to carry a knapsack and a musket on a 
long march. But after resting himself for a 
short time, he succeeded in reaching his friends. 

He was warmly received by his companions, and 
the veteran of the company had nearly hugged 
him in his joy and admiration. 

“ Honorable mention, Tom,” said Hapgood. 
“ You will be promoted as true as you live.” 

“ O, T guess not,” replied Tom, modestly. “ 1 
didn’t do any more than any body else. At any 
rate, you were close by my side, uncle.” 

“ Yes, but I followed, and you led. The com¬ 
mander of the division says you shall be a lieu¬ 
tenant. He said so on the field, and the colonel 
said so to day.” 

“ I don’t think I deserve it.” 

“ I do; and if you don’t get a commission, then 
there ain’t no justice left in the land. I tell 
you, Tom, you shall be a brigadier if the war 
lasts only one year more.” 

“ O, nonsense, uncle! ” 

“ Well, if you ain’t, you ought to be.” 

“ I’m lucky to get out alive. Whom have we 
lost, uncle? ” 

“ A good many fine fellows,” replied Hapgood, 
shaking his head, sadly. 

“ Poor Ben dropped early in the day.” 

“ Yes, I was afraid he’d got most to the end of 
his chapter afore we went in. Poor fellow! I’m 
sorry for him, and sorry for his folks.” 

“ Fred Pemberton said he should be killed, and 
Ben said he should not, you remember.” 

“ Yes, and that shows how little we know about 
these things.” 


266 


The Soldier Boy, or 

“ Bob Dornton was killed, too.” 

“ No, he’s badly hurt, but the surgeon thinks 
he will git over it. The eap’n was slightly 
wounded.” And Hapgood mentioned the names 
of those in the company who had been killed or 
wounded, or were missing. 

"It was an awful day,” sighed Tom, when the 
old man had finished the list. “ There will be 
sad hearts in Pinchbrook when the news gets 
there.” 

“ So there will, Tom*; but we gained the day. 
We did something handsome for ‘ Old Glory,’ and 
I s’pose it’s all right.” 

“ I would rather have been killed than lost 
the battle.” 

“ So would I; and betwixt you and me, Tom, 
you didn’t come very fur from losing your number 
in the mess,” added the veteran, as he thrust 
his little fingers into a bullet hole in the breast of 
Tom’s coat. “ That was rather a close shave.” 

“ I felt that one, but I hadn’t time to think 
about it then, for it was just as we were repelling 
that flank movement,” replied Tom, as he unbut¬ 
toned his coat, and thrust his hand into his 
breast pocket. “ Do you suppose she will give 
me another?” he added, as he drew forth the 
envelope which contained the letter and the 
photograph of the author of his socks. 

A minie ball had found its way through the 
envelope, grinding a furrow through the picture, 
transversely, carrying away the chin and throat 
of the young lady. The letter was mangled and 
minced up beyond restoration. Tom had dis¬ 
covered the catastrophe when he waked up in the 


Tom Somers in the Army. 267 

hospital, for his last thought at night, and his 
first in the morning, had been the beautiful 
Lilian Ashford. He was sad when he first be¬ 
held the wreck; but when he thought what a glo¬ 
rious assurance this would be of his conduct on 
the field, he was pleased with the idea; and while 
in his heart he thanked the rebel marksman for 
not putting the bullet any nearer to the vital 
organ beneath the envelope, he was not ungrate¬ 
ful for the splendid testimonial he had given him 
of his position during the battle. 

“ Of course she’ll give you another. Won’t 
she be proud of that picture when she gets it 
back?” 

“ If I had been a coward, I couldn’t have run 
away with those socks on my feet.” 

Tom remained with the regiment several hours, 
and then, in obedience to the surgeon’s orders, 
returned to the hospital, where he wrote a letter 
to his father, containing a short account of the 
battle, and another to Lilian Ashford, setting 
forth the accident which had happened to the 
picture, and begging her to send him another. 

I am afraid in this last letter Tom indulged 
in some moonshiny nonsense; but we are willing 
to excuse him for saying that the thought of the 
beautiful original of the photograph and the 
beautiful author of his socks had inspired him 
with courage on the battle field, and enabled him 
faithfully to perform his duty, to the honor and 
glory of the flag beneath whose starry folds he 
had fought, bled, and conquered, and so forth. 
It would not be unnatural in a young man of 


268 The Soldier Boy, or 

eighteen to express as much as this, and, we are 
not sure that he said any more. 

The next day Tom was down with a slow fever, 
induced by fatigue and over-exertion. He lay 
upon his cot for a fortnight, before he was able 
to go out again; but he was frequently visited 
by Hapgood and other friends in the regiment. 
About the middle of the month, the brigade moved 
on, and Tom was sad at the thought of lying 
idle, while the glorious work of the army was 
waiting for'true and tried men. 

Tom received “ honorable mention ” in the re¬ 
port of the colonel, and his recommendation, 
supported by that of the general of the division, 
brought to the hospital his commission as second 
lieutenant. 

“ Here’s medicine for you,” said the chaplain, 
as he handed the patient a ponderous envelope. 

“ What is it, sir? ” 

“ I don’t know, but it has an official look.” 

The sergeant opened it, and read the commis¬ 
sion, duly signed by the governor of Massachu¬ 
setts, and countersigned and sealed in proper 
form. Tom was astounded at the purport of the 
document. He could hardly believe his senses; but 
it read all right, and dated from the day of the 
battle in which he had distinguished himself. 
This was glory enough, and it took Tom forty- 
eight hours thoroughly to digest the contents of 
the envelope. 

Lieutenant Somers! The words had a queer 
sound, and he could not realize that he was a com¬ 
missioned officer. But he came to a better un¬ 
derstanding of the subject the next day, when a 


Tom Somers in the Army. 269 

1' <:ter from Lilian Ashford was placed in his 
h rnds. It was actually addressed to “ Lieuten¬ 
ant Thomas Somers.” She had read of his gal¬ 
lant conduct and of his promotion on the battle 
field in the newspapers. She sent him two photo¬ 
graphs of herself, and a sweet little letter, beg¬ 
ging him to return the photograph which had been 
damaged by a rebel bullet. 

Of course Tom complied with this natural 
request; but, as the surgeon thought his patient 
would improve faster at home than in the hos¬ 
pital, he had procured a furlough of thirty days 
for him, and the lieutenant decided to present 
the photograph in person. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

LIEUTENANT SOMERS AND OTHERS. 

Tom Somers had been absent from home nearly 
a year; and much as his heart was in the work 
of putting down the rebellion, he was delighted 
with the thought of visiting, even for a brief 
period, the loved ones who thought of and prayed 
for him in the little cottage in Pinchbrook. I 
am not quite sure that the well-merited promo¬ 
tion he had just received did not have some influ¬ 
ence upon him, for it would not have been un¬ 
natural for a young man of eighteen, who had 
won his shoulder-straps by hard fighting on a 
bloody field, to feel some pride in the laurels 



270 The Soldier Boy, or 

he had earned. Not that Tom was proud or 
vain; but he was moved by a lofty and noble 
ambition. It is quite likely he wondered what 
the people of Pinchbrook would say when he 
appeared there with the straps upon his shoul¬ 
ders. 

Of course he thought what his father would say, 
what his mother would say, and he could see 
the wrinkled face of gran’ther Greene expand 
into a genial smile of commendation. It is quite 
possible that he had even more interest in his 
reception at No — Rutland Street, when he 
should present himself to the author and finisher 
of those marvellous socks, which had wielded 
such an immense influence upon their wearer in 
camp and on the field. Perhaps it was a weak¬ 
ness on the part of the soldier boy, but we are 
compelled to record the fact that he had faith¬ 
fully conned his speech for that interesting oc¬ 
casion. He had supposed every thing she would 
say, and carefully prepared a suitable reply to 
each remark, adorned with all the graces of 
rhetoric within his reach. 

With the furlough in his pocket, Tom obtained 
his order for transportation, and with a light 
heart, full of pleasant anticipations, started for 
home. As he was still dressed in the faded and 
shattered uniform of a non-commissioned officer, 
he did not attract any particular notice on the 
way. He was enabled to pass through Baltimore, 
Philadelphia, and New York, without being bored 
by a public reception, which some less deserving 
heroes have not been permitted to escape. But 
the people did not understand that Tom had a 


Tom Somers in the Army. 271 

second lieutenant’s commission in his pocket, and 
he was too modest to proclaim the fact, which 
may be the reason why he was suffered to pass 
through these great emporiums of trade without 
an escort, or other demonstration of respect and 
admiration. 

Tom’s heart jumped with strange emotions 
when he arrived at Boston, perhaps because he 
was within a few miles of home; possibly because 
he was in the city that contained Lilian Ashford, 
for boys will be silly in spite of all the exertions 
of parents, guardians, and teachers, to make them 
sober and sensible. Such absurdities as “ the 
air she breathes,” and other rhapsodies of that 
sort, may have flitted through his mind; but we 
are positive that Tom did not give voice to any 
such nonsense, for every body in the city was a 
total stranger to him, so far as he knew. Be 
sides, Tom had no notion of appearing before the 
original of the photograph in the rusty uniform 
he wore; and as he had to wait an hour for the 
Pinchbrook train, he hastened to a tailor’s to 
order a suit of clothes which would be appropri¬ 
ate to his new dignity. 

He ordered them, was duly measured and had 
given the tailor his promise to call for the gar¬ 
ments at the expiration of five days, when the 
man of shears disturbed the serene current of his 
meditations by suggesting that the lieutenant 
should pay one half of the price of the suit in 
advance. 

“ It is a custom we adopt in all our dealings 
with strangers,” politely added the tailor. 

“ But I don’t propose to take the uniform away 


272 


The Soldier Boy, or 

until ft is paid for,” said Tom, blushing with 
mortification; for it so happened that he had 
not money enough to meet the demand of the 
tailor. 

u Certainly not,” blandly replied Shears; “ but 
we cannot make up the goods with the risk of not 
disposing of them. They may not fit the next 
man who wants such a suit.” 

“ I have not the money, sir;” and Tom felt 
that the confession was an awful sacrifice of 
dignity on the part of an officer in the army of the 
Potomac, who had fought gallantly for his coun¬ 
try on the bloody fields of Williamsburg and Bull 
Run. 

“ I am very sorry, sir. I should be happy to 
make up the goods, but you will see that our rule 
is a reasonable one.” 

Tom wanted to tell him that this lack of con¬ 
fidence was not a suitable return of a stay-at- 
home for the peril and privation he had endured 
for him; but he left in disgust, hardly replying 
to the flattering request of the tailor that he 
would call again. With his pride touched, he 
walked down to the railroad station to await 
the departure of the train. He had hardly en¬ 
tered the building before he discovered the famil¬ 
iar form of Captain Barney, to whom he hastened 
to present himself. 

“ Why, Tom, my hearty! ” roared the old sea 
captain, as he grasped and wrung his hand. “ Pm 
glad to see you. Shiver my mainmast, but you’ve 
grown a foot since you went away. But you 
don’t look well, Tom.” 


Tom Somers in the Army. 273 

“I’m not very well, sir; but I’m improving 
very rapidly.” 

“ How’s your wound? ” 

“ O, that’s almost well.” 

“ Sit down, Tom. I want to talk with you/ 5 
said Captain Barney, as he led the soldier boy 
to a seat. 

In half an hour Tom had told all he knew about 
the battle of Williamsburg, and the old sailor 
had communicated all the news from Pinchbrook. 

“ Tom, you’re a lieutenant now, but you haven’t 
got on your uniform,” continued Captain Bar¬ 
ney. 

“ No, sir,” replied Tom, laughing. “ I went 
into a store to order one, and they wouldn’t 
trust me.” 

“ Wouldn’t trust you, Tom!” exclaimed the 
captain. “ Show me the place, and I’ll smash 
in their deadlights.” 

“ I don’t know as I blame them. I was a 
stranger to them.” 

“ But, Tom, you mustn’t go home without a 
uniform. Come with me, and you shall be fitted 
out at once. Pm proud of you, Tom. You are 
one of my boys, and I want you to go into Pinch¬ 
brook all taut and trim, with your colors flying.” 

“ We haven’t time now; the train leaves in a 
few moments.” 

“ There will be another in an hour. The folks 
are all well, and don’t know you’re coming; so 
they can afford to wait.” 

Tom consented, and Captain Barney conducted 
him to several stores before he could find a ready¬ 
made uniform that would fit him; but at last 


274 


The Soldier Boy, or 

they found one which had been made to order 
for an officer who was too sick to use it at 
present. It was an excellent fit, and the young 
lieutenant was soon arrayed in the garments, 
with the symbolic straps on his shoulder. 

“ Bravo, Tom! You look like a new man. 
There isn’t a better looking officer in the service.” 

Very likely the subject of this remark thought 
so too, as he surveyed himself in the full-length 
mirror. The old uniform, with two bullet-holes 
in the breast of the coat, was done up in a bundle 
and sent to the express office, to be forwarded 
to Pinchbrook. Captain Barney then walked 
with him to a military furnishing store, where 
a cap, sword, belt, and sash, were purchased. 
For some reason which he did not explain, the 
captain retained the sword himself, but Tom was 
duly invested with the other accoutrements. 

Our hero felt “ pretty good,” as he walked 
down to the station with his friend; but be looked 
splendidly in his new outfit, and we are willing 
to excuse certain impressible young ladies, who 
cast an admiring glance at him as he passed down 
the street. It was not Tom’s fault that he was a 
handsome young man; and he was not respon¬ 
sible for the conduct of those who chose to look 
at him. 

With a heart beating with wild emotion, Tom 
stepped out of the cars at Pinchbrook. Here 
he w r as compelled to undergo the penalty of great¬ 
ness. His friends cheered him, and shook his 
hand till his arm ached. 

Captain Barney’s wagon w T as at the station, and 
before going to his own home, he drove Tom to the 


Tom Somers in the Army. 275 

little cottage of his father. I cannot describe 
the emotions of the returned soldier when the 
horse stopped at the garden gate. Leaping from 
the vehicle, he rushed into the house, and bolted 
into the kitchen, even before the family had seen 
the horse at the front gate. 

“ How d’ye do, mother? ” cried Tom, as he threw 
himself pell-mell into the arms of Mrs. Somers. 

“ Why, Tom! ” almost screamed she, as she re¬ 
turned his embrace. “ How do you do? ” 

“ Pretty well, mother. How do you do, 
father? ” 

“ Glad to see you,” replied Captain Somers, 
as he seized his son’s hand. 

“Bless my soul, Tom!” squeaked gran’ther 
Greene, shaking in every fibre of his frame from 
the combined influence of rhapsody and rheuma¬ 
tism. 

Tom threw both arms around Jenny’s neck, and 
kissed her half a dozen times with a concussion: 
like that of a battery of light artillery. 

“Why, Tom! I never thought nothin’ of seein ? 
you!” exclaimed Mrs. Somers. “I thought you 
was sick in the hospital.” 

“ I am better now, and home for thirty days.”’ 

“ And got your new rig on,” added his father. 

“ Captain Barney wouldn’t let me come home 
without my shoulder-straps. I met him in the 
city. He paid the bills.” 

“ I’ll make it all right with him.” 

“ I’ll pay for it by and by. You know I have 
over a hundred dollars a month now.” 

“Gracious me!” ejaculated Mrs. Somers, as 
she gazed with admiration upon the new and 


276 The Soldier Boy, or 

elegant uniform which covered the fine form of 
her darling boy. 

Presently Captain Barney came into the house, 
and for two hours Tom fought his battles over 
again, to the great satisfaction of his partial 
auditors. The day passed off amid the mutual 
rejoicings of the parties; and the pleasure of the 
occasion was only marred by the thought, on 
the mother’s part, that her son must soon return 
to the scene of strife. 

The soldier boy—we beg his pardon ; Lieutenant 
Somers—hardly went out of the house until after 
dinner on the following day, when he took a walk 
down to the harbor, where he was warmly greeted 
by all his friends. Even Squire Pemberton 
seemed kindly disposed towards him, and asked 
bim many questions in regard to Fred. Before 
he went home, he was not a little startled to re¬ 
ceive an invitation to meet some of his friends 
in the town hall in the evening, which it was im¬ 
possible for him to decline. 

At the appointed hour, he appeared at the hall, 
which was filled with people. The lieutenant 
did not know what to make of it, and trembled 
before his friends as he had never done before 
the enemies of his country. He was cheered 
lustily by the men, and the women waved their 
handkerchiefs, as though he had been a general 
of division. But his confusion reached the cli¬ 
max when Captain Barney led him upon the 
platform, and Mr. Boltwood, a young lawyer resi¬ 
dent in Pinchbrook, proceeded to address him in 
highly complimentary terms, reviewing his career 
at Bull Hun, on the Shenandoah, on the Potomac, 


277 


Tom Somers in the Army. 

to its culmination at Williamsburg, and con¬ 
cluded by presenting him the sword which the 
captain had purchased, in behalf of his friends 
and admirers in his native town. 

Fortunately for Tom, the speech was long, as 
he was enabled in some measure to recover his 
self-possession. In trembling tones he thanked 
the donors for their gift, and promised to use 
it in defence of his country as long as a drop 
of blood was left in his veins—highly poetical* 
but it required strong terms to express our 
hero’s enthusiasm—whereat the men and boys 
applauded most vehemently, and the ladies flour¬ 
ished their cambrics with the most commendable 
zeal. Tom bowed—bowed again—and kept bow¬ 
ing, just as he had seen General McClellan bow 
when he was cheered by the troops. As the peo¬ 
ple would not stop applauding, Tom, his face all 
aglow with joy and confusion, descended from the 
platform, and took his seat by the side of his 
mother. 

The magnates of Pinchbrook then made speeches 
—except Squire Pemberton—about the war, pa¬ 
triotism, gunpowder, and eleven-inch shot and 
shells. Every body thought it was “ a big thing,” 1 
and went home to talk about it for the next week. 
Tom’s father, and mother, and sister, and gran’- 
tlier Greene, said ever so many pretty things, 
and every body was as happy as happy could 
be, except that John was not at home to share 
in the festivities. Letters occasionally came from 
the sailor boy, and they went to him from the 
soldier boy. 

Mrs. Somers was not a little surprised, the 


or 


278 The Soldier Boy, 

next day, to hear her son announce his intention 
to take the first train for the city; but Tom 
could not postpone his visit to No — Rutland 
Street any longer, for he was afraid his uniform 
would lose its gloss, and the shoulder-straps their 
dazzling brilliancy. 

Tom’s courage had nearly forsaken him when 
lie desperately rang the bell at the home of Lil¬ 
ian Ashford; and he almost hoped the servant 
would inform him that she was not at home. 
Lilian was at home, and quaking like a con¬ 
demned criminal before the gallows, he was 
ushered into the presence of the author of his 
socks. 

Stammering out his name he drew from his 
pocket the battered photograph and the shattered 
letter, and proceeded at once to business. Lilian 
Ashford blushed, and Tom blushed—that is to 
say, they both blushed. When he had presented 
Lis relics, he ventured to look in her face. The 
living Lilian was even more beautiful than the 
Lilian of the photograph. 

“ Dear me! So you are the soldier that wore 
the socks I knit,” said Lilian; and our hero 
thought it was the sweetest voice he ever heard. 

“ I am, Miss Ashford, and I did not run away 
in them either.” 

“ I’m glad you did not,” added she, with a 
musical laugh, which made Tom think of the 
melody of the spheres, or some such nonsense. 

“ I have to thank you for my promotion,” said 
Tom, boldly. 

“ Thank me! ” exclaimed she, her fair blue eyes 
dilating with astonishment. 


Tom Somers in the Arm}., 279 

" The socks inspired me with courage and forti¬ 
tude/’ replied Tom, in exact accordance with the 
programme he had laid down for the occasion. 
" I am sure the thought of her who knit them, the 
beautiful letter, and the more beautiful photo¬ 
graph, enabled me to do that which won my pro¬ 
motion.” 

"Well, I declare!” shouted Lilian, in a kind 
of silvery scream. 

Bravo, Tom ! you are getting along swimmingly. 
And he said sundry other smart things which 
we have not room to record. He stayed half an 
hour, and Lilian begged him to call again, and 
see her grandmother, who was out of town that 
day. Of course he promised to come, promised 
to bring his photograph, promised to write to> 
her when he returned to the army—and I don’t 
know what he did not promise, and I hardly 
think he knew himself. 

But the brief dream ended, and Tom went 
home to Pinclibrook, after he had sat for his 
picture. The careless fellow left Lilian’s photo¬ 
graph on the table in his chamber a few days 
after, and his mother wanted to know whose it 
was; and the whole story came out, and Tom 
was laughed at, and Jenny made fun of him, and 
Captain Barney told him he was a match for 
the finest girl in the country. The lieutenant 
blushed like a boy, but rather enjoyed the whole 
thing. 

A sad day came at last, and Tom went back 
to the army. He went full of hope, and the bless¬ 
ing of the loved ones went with him. He was; 
received with enthusiasm by his old companions 


28 o 


The Soldier Boy, or 

in arms, and Hapgood—then a sergeant—still 
declared that he would be a brigadier in due 
time,—or, if he was not, he ought to be. His 
subsequent career, if not always as fortunate 
as that portion which we have recorded, was un¬ 
stained by cowardice or vice. 


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